Sarah vs the Mirror
by InstantEntertainment
Summary: What if the roles were reversed or at least altered? Set in an AU, though it will follow some of the major canon arcs with a twist here and there, and Charah of course. Lowered the rating from M to T for the time being, if not permanently, but will be raised back to M if necessary.
1. Chapter 1: Versus the Switch

**A/N:** This is my first fanfiction in this 'verse to be published here. I did have a couple of other stories on here but I took them down since they have their 'home' somewhere else.

Though I am sure that the idea is not new at all, I wanted to see where it would go if certain roles were switched and/or altered. So Sarah will start out as a rather geeky Sam and eventually become Sarah. At least that is the plan, but the problem with plans is that they tend to go sideways so easily.

Since this is an AU, which will follow some of the main arcs of canon, there will be quite a few twists and turns along the way. And... There will be Charah, of course. And puppies! Oh, wait, no puppies... Awww.

Fair warning: English is not my first language, so any mistakes in word or sentence structure is completely unintentional or the accidental result of a translation failure.

Oh, and yes, reviews will be much appreciated. Even if you think the story sucks, which I hope not.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'Chuck' and there's absolutely no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

Sam sat behind the desk, bobbing her head to the beat of the song on her iPod. So far it had proven to be an uneventful day at the Burbank Buy More and she was happy for it.

With her best friend Bryce staying out of her way for most of her shift, she could focus on getting rid of the backlog. Still something told her that something was up. Normally Bryce would stop by at the Nerd Herd desk a few times during his shift, but he had made himself scarce today.

She honestly hoped he was not planning something silly as a surprise birthday party. It was just another year, in which she had successfully managed to hide herself from the real world.

"There she is."

Speak of the devil. As if he knew that she was thinking about him, he came up to the front of the desk, with his boyish smile and evil glint in his eye. It no longer caused her heart to skip a beat, like it had done in high school when she had not known the truth about her best friend. When she had thought they could be possibly more than just best friends.

"Bryce," she sighed, not liking the look on his face. "What did ya do?"

"Nothing, hun," he answered a little too quickly.

She rolled her eyes. He seemed to forget that she knew him like the back of her hand. He had tells and right now it told her that he was up to something.

"Bryce, I told you-"

"Yeah, and I heard you," he smirked.

"But you didn't listen, did you?"

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't," he chuckled.

* * *

Leave it to Bryce to throw a surprise birthday party. She had to admit that he had outdone himself in inviting eligible bachelors, but she was nothing too sure if it had to do with her or with him. So far none of the male party guests had caught her attention, or was it the other way around? That was more likely the case and thus after an hour of trying she had managed to sneak away to her room, to the safety of her books.

"Sam, will you come out and mingle already," Bryce said with a hint of annoyance to his voice from the door opening. "What's a birthday party without the birthday girl?"

"A party?" She offered, glancing at him over her book.

"Com'on, Sam. You can't hide in here forever," he sighed.

"I can certainly try," she retorted.

"No cake for you then, missy," he stated, the annoyance now clearly present in his voice. "And no beefcake either," he added with a wink.

A fierce blush crept up her neck and cheeks.

"Oh well, all the more for me then."

She really wished she could bring herself to say that he was so easy in a less conventional way, but that was not like her so she simply gave him a faked look of shock. His answer was a simple shrug of his shoulders and a posture that told her that he was not leaving where he stood until she came out with him.

"Fine," she grumbled while she put her book aside and got to her feet.

* * *

He was not the man to spew profanities so freely like that, but right now Charles Bartowski, or simply Chuck to his family and friends, was cursing like a sailor. All CIA station and substation chiefs had been recalled to their respective bases of operations, all over the world, on an Alert Crimson. In his case, it had been at nearly half of the drive from Bakersfield to Burbank.

For a short moment he had contemplated to simply continue driving down the I5 and call in when he got to Burbank, but an Alert Crimson meant a matter of international importance. So he had taken the next exit and was now driving back to Bakersfield.

He had been looking forward to visiting his big sister and her boyfriend for quite a while now. A deep sigh passed his lips now that he was done cursing. At least it had gotten him out of meeting this girl his sister was dying to introduce him to.

Not that he expected the girl to be some hideous creature or something, his sister knew better than that. The simple truth was that he was not over his ex-girlfriend Jill just yet, though it had not kept him from pursuing another relationship once or twice without any success. Something his best friend and assistant Morgan failed to understand. And of course, he was well aware of the fact the relationship had ended abruptly over five years ago, but it did not change the fact that he was not quite ready to move on.

His line of work did not leave him much room for an active social life either. He had been recruited right out of Stanford into Project Omaha, a joint agencies top secret operation, and he had been the exception to the rule upon becoming a spy without actually having to pass the so-called Red Test. After his downright refusal to kill another human being and the recognition by the CIA that he possessed some unusual but highly appreciated skills, Deputy Director of Operations Langston had personally instated him as a spy with the highest clearance, thanks to his involvement in Project Omaha.

His Red Test had come eventually; involuntarily, unintentionally and unforeseen, but it had been his absolute last resort in a mission abroad gone completely sideways. The act of killing, even if he had been left no other choice, had made him physically ill for over a week and he had vowed to only take a life if all his other options were exhausted. Something that had only happened twice since then.

* * *

Bryce had left her in the company of four rather attractive looking men, which only seemed to work counterproductive. She was well aware of the fact that she was a nerd and a bookworm, and looked and dressed the part, and to be surrounded by good-looking guys like these caused her to withdraw into herself even more.

"So, Sam," the tall blonde, introduced to her as Sean, addressed her. "Tell a little bit about yourself."

"Euh," she searched for the words, feeling put quite in the spotlight. "I like to read?"

"Read any good books lately?" Sean asked more out of politeness than actual interest.

In her mind it was a stupid question, and she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. From what she gathered so far, Sean was muscle and not brains, but he was making an effort.

"Just finished The Godfather," she answered with a shy smile.

"After the movie?"

Sean's question confirmed her suspicion and immediately made her wonder how many of the male guests were actually smart. It certainly would not be the first time that Bryce would try and set her up with an airhead of a jock. Though she appreciated his effort, she simply wished that he was cease his attempts to either get her a boyfriend or get her laid.

She felt a hand come to rest on her forearm and turned to see her other best friend and neighbor Ellie: "Can I borrow the guest of honor?" Ellie asked with broad but obviously fake smile.

* * *

"Morgan? Change of plans, buddy," he said the moment he heard his best friend answer his call. "Heading back now. ETA: thirty minutes."

"Better floor it, Chuck. It's complete chaos over here, and no one knows what the hell is going on. Do you?"

He had expected no differently and pushed the gas pedal to the floor. His car jumped forward and the environment started to blur. This was the first time in his career with the CIA there was an Alert Crimson. And it meant that every station, every agent was on the highest alert. Still only the agents with the highest clearance would be briefed when deemed necessary.

"No. Listen, buddy, I need you to run a system check first and then enter Processor Protocol 21," he instructed.

Processor Protocol 21 was a program he had written in his last year at Stanford, right after the initial contact with the CIA recruiter. It was designed to shut down access to the networks for all computers at the station, except for his. Any attempt from within or outside to send or retrieve data would be flagged and a message would pop up on his screen notifying him of the severity of the breach, the data, which computer had been used and who was logged in at that moment. Depending on the nature and severity of the breach, it was something to be dealt with in proper time.

"On it. Anything else?" Morgan asked.

"Could you call Ellie for me and apologize?"

"You want me to call Ellie?" His friend sounded surprised.

"I know she was really looking forward to seeing me after all this time, and now I have to disappoint her yet again. But I really need to focus right now,"

"Of course, Chuck," Morgan still sounded surprised but with a hint of excitement to his voice as well.

"No funny business this time, Morgan," he warned him. "Just apologize for me and tell her that I will try and call her later. Nothing more."

"Sure thing."

"Thanks, buddy. ETA: twenty-five minutes."

Without so much as a goodbye and assuming that his friend would follow his instructions without diverting much this time, he ended the call and was about to toss his cell phone on the passenger's seat, when it chimed.

It was a secure text message, telling him that Alert Crimson had been updated to Iota status. It sent an icy shiver down his spine. Crimson Iota referred to the Intersect and Project Omaha.

"What the hell?!"

Project Omaha, and with that the Intersect, was on a need-to-know basis. It was an experiment to greatly increase the efficiency of agents out in the field, but it had yet to be tested out in the field. Or so the brass thought.

However the upgraded status meant that all stations would return to normal status of operations, even the one he was currently heading. Alert Crimson Iota only concerned those directly involved so the whole first alert would be spun by the higher-ups as simply a glitch in the system, a false alarm. He knew better though.

He was not a fan of the use of the f-word but now it seemed very appropriate so he did not think about it: "FUCK!" He yelled as he hit the top of the steering wheel with the ball of his right hand.

* * *

"Thanks, Ellie," she sighed after they had retreated to a quieter spot of the courtyard.

"Don't mention it. It looked like you needed saving," Ellie smirked.

She nodded affirmatively, happy to have been saved from a conversation that would have gotten awkward real quick, though it had come as a surprise that Sean had actually seen the movie, or at least had heard of it.

"Again," she finally said with a sigh.

For the past five years, ever since she moved into the apartment complex in Echo Park with Bryce, she had been saved by Eleanor Faye Bartowski at least once per surprise birthday party. She remembered the tall brunette saving her from a groups of jocks like Sean on her very first birthday here. In fact it had been how they met. Apparently Ellie, as she preferred to be called, had seen the look of distress on her face and had come over to get her away from them.

Ellie simply laughed: "Seems to be a recurring theme on your birthday. Oh, Devon told me to tell you happy birthday and he's sorry that he had to miss the party but he has the graveyard shift this week. And I'm sorry about my little brother. Still hope he's simply running late, but I doubt it."

"I'm sure he's just busy, Ellie," she sent her friend a sympathetic smile in return while patting her forearm gently.

Truth be told, she had mixed feelings about meeting Ellie's younger brother. On the one hand she was looking forward to finally meeting him face-to-face, having heard so many great stories, and on the other hand it felt a little like Ellie was setting them up. As luck would have it, the one time he had been in town to visit his sister in the five years she lived here now, she had been out of town visiting her father in San Diego.

He sounded like a great guy, but it was a sister's prerogative to embellish and make her brother look great, but Ellie was not really someone to exaggerate. When she had just moved in with Bryce, Ellie had shown her the most recent picture she had of Chuck when they had gone over for coffee. Taken in his last year at Stanford; a bit of a nerdy looking guy with a goofy look on his face and a toothy grin. He was not classically handsome, like one could call Bryce, but he was quite attractive in his own right. With his curly, brown hair and his warm and kind eyes. He seemed approachable. That photo plus the Chuck Tales, she would be lying if she said that she was not in the least bit intrigued.

"Well, there's always next year," she added with a warm laugh.

Ellie went to say something but was cut short by her cell phone ringing. She looked at her friend curiously when she saw her face fall.

"That was Morgan. He's not coming," Ellie said with a mix of sadness and disappointment. "Work. As always."

Oddly enough that came as a relief to her. What if he had indeed shown up and had been nothing like she had been told or had imagined? Or maybe even worse, if he had been everything and more? Suddenly it felt like she had dodged a bullet.

* * *

"So you understand the gravity of the situation, Chief Bartowski?" Director Graham asked.

He nodded at his superior on the screen: "Yes, sir," he answered slowly.

He understood perfectly well; the security of the Office of the Director of National Intelligence had been breached and the latest Intersect was gone.

"If you don't mind me asking, sir, what is to be our next step? Do I need to come in?"

"No, that won't be necessary. Yet. So you sit tight for now. At least until the prelim is finished and I have spoken with Beckman of the NSA, since it was our joint project."

Barely able to suppress the groan rising at the back of his throat, he nodded again. He was not a fan of General Diane Beckman, but of the whole lot she was the most tolerable. Unlike that insufferable Merriweather. Over the past five years the man had done more harm than good to Project Omaha, questioning every decision along the line. In his book, having Beckman in charge of the NSA part of the investigation was a silver lining.

However, no matter whom he would be dealing with concerning the retrieval of the Intersect, it did not change the fact that no more than two hours ago an enemy operative had successfully infiltrated the research facility housing the Intersect Room and had stolen the most current Intersect. And had blown up the room after that before almost escaping.

"Sir, you said that Agent Casey shot the perp. May I ask if we know who the enemy agent is, uh, was?"

Director Graham appeared to be surprised by his question and he was obviously thinking about whether to answer the question or not.

"It was one of our own, Chief Bartowski. Her name was..."

* * *

"Zondra?" She pondered aloud when she saw the name pop up in the list of received messages.

It had been a long while now since she had last thought about her former roommate and friend. And she had preferred it that way. To her, one Zondra Rizzo was nothing more than a bitch.

She had been stupid back then, confided in Zondra about a guy she liked and Zondra had betrayed her. Intentionally. One late afternoon she had returned to their room after a long day of classes, only to find her friend and the guy in bed together.

What had made matters worse had been the unwillingness of Zondra to apologize or to explain, except that she had brought it on herself which had confused her even more. Her high school teenage years had been quite awkward and had made her the butt of many a joke by the popular kids, with her unconventional way of dressing, her lanky tall build and her love for books.

Upon going to Harvard, she had hoped for a change. One that never had really come, not even after Zondra had taken her under her wing initially and had introduced her to a variety of people. She had still stood out, adding to her insecurity, so she had kept to herself most of the time and had poured herself into studying. Needless to say she had graduated top of her class, but that was just a small consolation.

After graduation she had declined a few job offers from big international companies and had moved back west instead to hide away from the big bad world in the safe company of Bryce in a dead-end job where she would not stand out all that much. She observed life from a distance and was sociable on a to her acceptable degree, so she was not a complete recluse.

Still it was odd that Zondra would send her an email after all these years and on her birthday no less. Curiosity got the better of her. Maybe it was a long overdue explanation or apology? She opened the email. No words, only an attachment, a huge one judging by the number of bytes behind it.

Again curiosity overruled any caution and she double-clicked the attachment to open it. The screen of her computer went black for a second before a question appeared.

"If forty-two is the truth, then twenty-one is...," she voiced the words onscreen.

A light chuckle escaped her. Zondra had not been an avid reader, but when she had suggested 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' to her, she had devoured it. Twenty-one had been a common inside joke.

"Only half the truth," she said while she typed the answer.

Images flooded the screen, following each other in rapid succession. Instinctively she knew she had to look away, but she could not; her eyes glued to the screen.


	2. Chapter 2: Versus the Memory

**A/N:** Wow. Just wow. To be honest, I had never expected that the first chapter would be so well-received. To the readers who left a review for it, thank you so very much.

undergroundirector: it's funny that you asked about Chief, since I had already planned on shedding some light on it in this chapter. Somehow I doubt Chuck ever came close to joining any military branch. In this case Chief would be the head of the CIA station.

GCG23 & BCC1: my intention is to stay close to the characters as set in the series, with Sam being the big exception, but she will display some of her spyish traits sooner rather than later. For now she is the nerd, since I took her teenage version as depicted in 'Versus the Cougars' as the basis, but she is destined to become Sarah Walker and not remain the nerd.

Aside from the unintentional translation failure, or a forgotten word since I have knack for doing so, here's the second chapter two days ahead of schedule. The plan is to post a chapter every week, unless I get it done sooner or get hit by a case of writer's block.

Again, reviews are most welcome and... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'Chuck'.

* * *

He woke to the incessant ringing of his cell phone and groaned annoyed. Blindly he searched for the thing on the floor next to his cot and only opened one eye to look at the screen. It was not someone calling, but the alarm he had set two hours ago.

To take a nap was a decision was he was now coming to regret. It would have been better if he had stayed awake, with fogs of sleep covering his mind. He sent Morgan a quick text and dropped the cell phone on the cot.

It was not uncommon for him to sleep in his office, working late hours and starting early shifts. Yet it had gotten worse when he had to step in as acting chief of station; he needed to have a word with the Director about that. His predecessor had passed away suddenly a month ago, and Director Graham had yet to appoint a new and permanent chief. Anyone would do, as long as it was not him.

He sat up and yawned, stretching to loosen up his tense neck and shoulder muscles. In case of emergency a cot did just fine, but he preferred a little more comfort. Still, it beat sleeping on the floor with only a pillow and a blanket.

Finally feeling awake enough to stand he got to his feet, only to jump a foot in the air when the main screen in his office jumped from the screen saver to the scowl of the Director of Operations. At least he had been alert enough not to let out of what could be considered a girlish scream, something he had done the first two or three times when this had happened. It did not stop his heart from beating frantically in his chest.

"Director Graham, sir, what can I do for you?" He asked in a somewhat shaky voice.

The man had obviously been watching him, waiting for the first chance for the next briefing.

"Chief Bartowski, the NSA picked up a trace signal."

He sauntered over to his computer, swiped his mouse and nodded in confirmation. After obtaining the necessary information, he had run a modified traceroute program while he had taken a nap. A deep frown appeared on his face when he saw the address the program had found.

"Something wrong?" Director Graham asked impatiently.

Deciding to play along, he inquired: "Where?"

"Los Angeles. And don't insult my intelligence, Bartowski; I know you ran a program to get a more accurate trace."

Los Angeles was a pretty general location, and a very large area to cover. It would be the most likely scenario that the NSA had a more exact location and simply did not want to share that information.

"They're sending Casey."

"That Terminator wannabe? Leave it to the NSA to kill a mosquito with an rpg," he shook his head warily.

"I agree, which is why I want you down there, see what you can uncover before Casey gets in."

* * *

"Sammie? Sam, hun?"

Someone was gently tapping her cheeks before shaking her by the shoulders. Bryce's voice sounded so far away and distorted. Slowly she opened her eyes, flinched and immediately closed them again. Hearing hurt her eyes and seeing hurt her ears. The last thing she remembered was a statue of Abraham Lincoln.

"You okay, Sam?" He asked worriedly after she let out a pitiful moan.

"Head hurts," she mumbled.

And her back, but she did not feel like sharing that yet. At some point she had ended up flat on her back on the floor, but it was a mystery as to how. Another attempt to open her eyes left her flinching once more.

"That's it," Bryce said in a stern voice. "I'm calling Ellie."

Stubbornness took over and she tried to sit up without opening her eyes, only to be pushed back down by a firm but gentle hand against her shoulder.

"Ellie? It's Bryce. You home?"

Did he have to be so loud? She wanted to crawl away, preferably to a place without any light and sound.

"Good... Sam took a bad spill... Can you come over?"

"Not necessary," she muttered in protest.

"Thanks, Ellie... I'll let you in," he sighed with relief, completely ignoring her.

She had no idea what worried her more: the fact that she could barely move and her head felt like it had been filled with concrete or that Ellie would go all doctor crazy on her. By the stumbling and fading footsteps she could tell that Bryce had left her to answer the door. This was it; her last chance to get up and act like nothing happened before Ellie got to her, but she could not bring herself to do it.

"Sam, sweetie," Ellie was at her side in no time and began to examine her.

"She can't move," Bryce informed. "It's like she's got couch lock or something."

She hissed in pain when Ellie checked her head. It took her every bit of strength not to throw up or pass out, even if Ellie treated her with the most gentle of touches.

"Clearly she hit her head..."

There was a pun in there, but when Bryce did not take the opportunity to make fun of her, it told her the severity of the situation she was in.

"... Small laceration at the back of the skull. No sign of neck injury... It's best if I take you in for some scans and rule out brain injury," Ellie concluded after finishing the examination.

* * *

Some things hardly ever changed, and though it had been a while since he had last set foot on the courtyard of this apartment complex, it still looked and felt the same. Maybe some new tenants had moved in since the last time, but it still felt like coming home.

He glanced at the front door of his sister's apartment, his excuse for this surprise visit. Yet it would be his next stop. First he had some breaking and entering to do. According to the Burbank Buy More work schedules he had pulled before leaving, the residents of his first destination should be at work. It did not mean he did not have to be careful.

He checked the courtyard and the adjoining apartments once more. There was no movement and no one in sight. Casually he made his way to the window. If his memory served him well, all it would take was some jiggling of the handle and lock.

_'There ya go,'_ he thought before he looked over his shoulder to check again. The courtyard was still deserted. Carefully not to make a sound he opened the window and climbed inside. The room was clean and tidy, the bed made. He nodded in approval.

Suddenly he noticed the faint smell of molten plastic, sickeningly sweet and headache inducing. He spotted the computer under the desk, went over and slipped the backpack off his shoulder. Quietly he went to work after getting the right tools from the backpack; upon opening the casing the burn smell intensified, and he gagged a little.

After switching on the small led-flashlight he examined the hardware. The motherboard was obviously fried, with the processor and memory banks molten in their places. It could be considered a miracle that the computer had not caught fire in the process of overheating like this.

The thought of Agent Casey beating him to the scene crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. From what he had heard and read about the NSA operative, Casey had the subtlety and tact of a robot, and his solution would have been to take it into the courtyard and riddle it with bullets. Something else had done this damage and he had a pretty good idea as to what it had been.

"Interesting," he said barely audible.

Though the computer had received some impressive upgrades, it seemed nothing more than a two-bit calculator computer to the computer that had housed the Intersect. The file itself was pretty harmless if it remained unopened. However if opened, it generated massive amounts of heat and possibly power surges. Past test runs confirmed his findings and he heaved an annoyed sigh; the Intersect had been activated and uploaded. Which meant that his job had just gotten a lot harder.

He rummaged through the backpack and took out the portable electromagnetic degausser. As much as he hated to do it, he removed the hard drive and stuck it in the machine. Whatever there was still left on the hard drive, it would be gone in a matter of minutes.

* * *

She had argued with Ellie that a visit the hospital was not necessary, that she was fine, but her friend had simply refused to take 'no' for an answer. When it came to injuries and the health of family and friends, Ellie could reach terrifying levels of scary doctor.

Now Bryce had left her in Ellie's care and had promised to tell Big Mike that she was taking a sick day so she would not have to worry about work. She was hardly ever sick, and to miss work over something stupid as a fall, it clashed with her sense of duty. More than once she had thought of calling a cab and get to work, but she was sure that Ellie would hunt her down and drag her back to the hospital until she was cleared.

With time to kill and no desire to play a game on her cell phone, she glanced at the other people sitting out in the hallway waiting for their doctors to come and collect them. Her gaze became fixed on a man in his late forties.

A strange tingle ran through her brain, followed by a sharp tug, like an undercurrent in the ocean, at the back of her mind. Preparing to be surrounded by peaceful darkness, her mind's eye was flooded with a torrent of images instead.

"Tsugh," she uttered in a strangled gasp when reality returned.

Though a little dizzy, she shook her head to clear her mind. What had just happened? She looked at the man again and suddenly seemed to know a lot more about him. Derek Walters, CEO of a hedge fund company, suspected of embezzlement, money laundering and insider trading.

It unnerved her. Where did that knowledge come from? He was a stranger to her, and now she knew all about his supposed white collar crimes.

Unwilling to find out if it was just a single occurrence or not, she leaned forward in the chair, resting her elbows on her thighs, her head in her hands. So far the past twenty-four hours had been pretty bizarre; the email from Zondra, coming to on the floor with no recollection whatsoever as to what happened, and now she knew that man was a criminal. What the hell was wrong with her?

* * *

"The computer's destroyed beyond repair," he informed the Director over the secure line.

"Okay. Any external drives? A backup?"

"None that I could find, sir, but that doesn't mean there isn't one," he said with some hesitation.

The break-in, the theft of the intersect, the recipient. He had been racking his brains over the whole incident and so far it did not make sense at all. Why had Zondra sent the Intersect file to a civilian?

"What is it, Bartowski?" Director Graham asked annoyed.

"I don't know, sir," he answered honestly.

"Listen, Bartowski... Zondra burned us. All we can do now is get a handle on the situation, so do whatever needs to be done. Is that clear?"

He swallowed a curse. 'Whatever' usually meant one thing: eliminate the threat at the earliest convenience. And that was not how he worked. His curiosity would need to be satisfied and the evidence irrefutable before he would take such drastic actions. Director Graham knew this and would pressure on him to close the case as fast as possible. Maybe he should wait for Casey to arrive and take over. Undoubtedly the NSA operative would have no problems with doing the dirty work. But what if his gut feeling was right? Could he really sacrifice an innocent person just like that, if that was in fact the case? The answer was no.

"Yes, sir," he sighed in feigned resignation.

* * *

He emitted a loud, deep grunt of displeasure, causing the driver to jerk the steering wheel a little. The computer had been a dead end, literally. And his intended target had not shown up for work. It felt like he had been sent from pillar and post.

General Beckman had been very clear in her instructions; find the target, assess the situation and act accordingly. She had also informed him that the CIA had gotten a head start by sending some analyst involved with Project Omaha, who had been stationed nearby, to investigate.

An analyst, not even a fully trained field operative. This guy would not even stand a chance against him if push came to shove, and he had no doubts about that. The interagency competition dictated as much.

It was only too bad that the General had not been able to provide him the analyst's name yet, but he was sure that she could come through any moment now. As if the devil was playing, his cell phone chimed and he checked the message.

"Charles Bartowski, hrmm," he grumbled, the name sounding vaguely familiar but he refused to give it another thought.

* * *

It almost made his heart burst with pride to see his sister in her doctor's attire talking to a patient. It had been way too long since he had last seen her, though Bakersfield was less than two hours away.

Silently he approached her from behind and tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

"Just a sec," his sister said without even turning around.

A smirk spread across his face and he tapped her on the shoulder again. If she was given the chance, she would forget all about the person wanting her attention instead focusing on the person needing her attention.

"Can't you see," she began angrily only to stop midsentence when she whirled around and saw him standing only two feet away from her.

His smirk had evolved into a grin that spread from ear to ear when he caught the look of shock and surprise on her face.

"Chuck!" She exclaimed.

Air whistled from his lungs when she pulled him into a crushing hug that would have made any grizzly bear jealous.

"What are you doing here?"

"I felt bad about yesterday so I took the day off to come down and surprise you."

"You're really here," she smiled happily, squeezing his upper arms as if to make sure that he was not a figment of her imagination. "It's been too long, little brother."

"You said it, big sister," he returned her smile, only to have the wind knocked out him once more when she enveloped him in another bear hug.

He stumbled backwards a little when she pushed him away all of a sudden and looked at him with eyes full of mischief. He knew that look: "Uh oh?"

"Come on," she said taking his hand in a vice grip and started dragging her with him.

They reached a young woman who sat hunched forward, and he had to sidestep his sister to avoid running into her when she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Sam?" Ellie drew the woman's attention.

* * *

"I'd like you to meet my little brother," Ellie said with a grand smile. "Chuck, this is my neighbor and friend Sam. Sam, this is my little brother Chuck," she continued with the informal introductions.

"Hi," Chuck said with a warm smile while he extended his hand.

She looked from his hand to his face. Her heartbeat picked up a little at the realization that she finally got to meet him. Instinctively she tried to read him.

Not wanting to be impolite, she pressed her hand in his, frowning somewhat confused at the sensation that came with it, and shook it firmly: "Hi."

He tilted his head a little and looked her curiously. The moment was there, and then, it was gone. She took her hand back and looked at Ellie expectantly.

"Oh, right," she seemed to get the message. "You're good to go."

At least the doctor-patient confidentiality saved her from appearing to be a complete klutz. For some reason she did not want him to think she was some clumsy patsy. She gave a small nod in acknowledgment.

"Chuck, can you give Sam a ride back to the apartment complex? My shift officially started thirty minutes ago, Devon's probably asleep already and Bryce is at work."

She immediately opened her mouth to protest, that she did not want to impose and that a cab was just fine, but Chuck beat her: "Sure thing, sis," he agreed with a warm smile.

"Oh, and I want you both over for dinner tonight. At seven."

The tone Ellie had used sounded definitive; once the woman had gotten something into her head, refusing was not an option. So she simply nodded in agreement.

* * *

So far things had gone a lot better than he had expected. Perhaps he had been a little too eager with agreeing to give Sam a ride home, but it had been a chance stupid to pass up. He had made contact with the mark and now he was given a first chance to find out what she knew. As it turned out she was not really the talkative kind. Or at least not yet.

"So...," he looked for a way to start up the conversation while they waited for the traffic light to turn green. "What is it you do for a living?"

"I work at the Buy More," she was surprisingly quick to answer. "Nerd Herd actually. Bryce works there as well, in sales."

Like he did not know that already. Before he had left for Los Angeles, he had read their files and both were clean, aside from a speeding ticket here and a parking ticket there. Nothing that would mark either of them as a threat to national security, but in his line of work he had learned all too soon that it was better to be safe than sorry.

Apparently inspired by his interest, though it took her a while, she asked: "And you? What do you do?"

He pulled into the first available parking spot after crossing the busy intersection and looked over his shoulder for quite some time. While waiting he had noticed something and he wanted to make sure before acting upon it.

"Hold on," he said before he killed the engine and got out of his car. "Back in a sec."


	3. Chapter 3: Versus the Flash

**A/N: **Again wow! It was a little intimidating to see how much traffic the first two chapters have gotten so far. Very unexpected but greatly appreciated. To all the readers and the reviewers: thank you so very much.

SpeedyTheMouse: it took me quite a while to make up my mind about that, since it's *the* Sarah Walker, but I ended up picking Sam because it would emphasize the rift between those personas a little better. Plus it gave me an idea of why Sam got to be Sarah Walker by her own choice and not Graham's.

undergroundirector: I'll admit it... I toyed with the idea of Zondra and Chuck going out, especially since she seemed to be his 'type' (brunette, brown eyes), but decided against it because I don't think that would've panned out well. So I'm going to stick to friends and colleagues, since Chuck has the uncanny ability to befriend just about everyone, even his nemeses.

Two small points left to address, and it's something I should've done in the A/N of Chapter 2 already: 'Tsugh' is an onomatopoeia, and thoughts will be in _italic_.

Again, reviews are most welcome. As they are the ink to my pen, the fuel to my jet, eh not jet since I don't have a jet. Fuel to my inspiration, yup, that sounds about right.

So without further ado, here's the third chapter... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'Chuck'.

* * *

After unbuckling her seatbelt, she slouched a little in the passenger's seat so she would have a good view in the wing mirror without having to adjust it. Once more curiosity had gotten the better of her.

She watched while Chuck jogged back and crossed the intersection. He talked to an elderly woman for a good minute, who in turn nodded and sent him a smile. Grateful, she determined from how it looked.

_'Maybe a relative?'_ She thought while Chuck gave the lady his arm.

Nevertheless she had never heard Ellie mention any other relatives than her parents and her little brother Chuck. A deep frown creased her brow; maybe it was someone he had recognized from his teenage years? With her interest and curiosity reaching a higher level, she continued to watch as Chuck helped the woman cross the intersection, chuckled when she saw him make a 'calm down' gesture at an impatient driver and smiled from ear to ear when the lady had him lean down to plant a kiss on his cheek. He looked somewhat uncomfortable, said something to the woman and jogged back to the car.

Just barely in time, she sat up straight again and tried to look bored when he opened the car door and got into the driver's seat.

"Sorry 'bout that," he sighed while he put the seatbelt back on. "Seatbelt?"

"It's fine," she said, following his request, again reluctantly.

She was not a fan of safety belts, limiting her movement behind the wheel or anywhere else in a car, but she was not going to get into it with him about that again. Or as he had put it in the parking lot of the hospital: his car, his rules.

"So who was that?" She asked.

He laughed amused: "Why? Afraid of a little competition?"

She snorted and rolled her eyes before she grumbled: "No."

"I noticed her when we had to wait for the traffic light the first time, she was still there the second time, and when she didn't cross on the third time... I thought I'd go see if she needed help... It's silly, I know, but what if it was my grandma?"

"So you pulled over to help a complete stranger? Just like that?"

He nodded slowly and looked in the wing mirror on his side, but not before she had caught the slight blush on his cheeks. She considered the possibility that he had done it to impress her, but without a good reason to back up that thought , and the fact that he was Ellie's little brother, she dismissed it. It would be something Ellie would do as well.

If anything, she should know by now that Bartowskis were very helpful by nature, without so much as giving it a second thought. Yet this simple act of kindness had won him big points in her book.

* * *

He looked at his cell phone and seriously considered throwing it at the first agent to look at him. Anger and frustration raged through him.

"What do you mean? Stand down?" He barked furiously after he had brought the phone up to his ear again.

"It means stand down, Major." General Beckman said in a calm voice, undisturbed by his outburst.

"Like hell I will," he growled through gritted teeth.

"It's an order, Major, non-negotiable. And may I remind you that I am your superior? I get your frustration, but Graham and I have been ordered from the top to play nice. Since Agent Bartowski made contact first, he's lead. For now. Once the deadline expires, you can go and do your little trick."

General Diane Beckman was a woman after his own heart. Cold, calculating and ruthless. She was not afraid to make the tough decisions. Unlike those wimps at the CIA with their bleeding hearts.

"With pleasure, ma'am."

"Oh, and, Major Casey, if something were to happen to Bartowski then," she paused for dramatic effect. "It would be a most unfortunate yet unavoidable accident."

"Understood, ma'am."

Though he was still furious, the idea of exacting some revenge on the CIA was just what he needed to cool off. He would wait until midnight, and not one minute more. The CIA nerd, he could, and he would, kill. That was a most welcome bonus, payback for getting in his way.

* * *

"I don't know about this girl, sir," he spoke into his cell phone, leaning his back against his car.

He had parked two blocks away from the apartment complex to call in his findings so far. There was absolutely no indication that Sam was a threat to national security. Being reserved and perceptive, perfectly capable of blending into the background, did not make someone a bad person.

Whatever the reason had been for Zondra to send her the Intersect file, it did not match with the conventional ones.

"Nice girls aren't sent government secrets, Bartowski," the Director reminded him.

_'But what if, by the highest improbability factor, that was exactly the case?'_ He asked himself in thoughts.

"Things were hectic, sir. Maybe Agent Rizzo meant to send it to someone else?" He suggested.

"Maybe," Director Graham admitted. "But the facts are as they are. The computer's destroyed, and we need to know what she knows so we can deal with it."

It came as a relief that Director Graham did not seem to be intent on extreme measures without asking questions first.

"Just give me a little more time, sir. I'm having dinner with my sister, my sister's boyfriend and her tonight."

"Fine. You have until midnight. Without solid answers then, Beckman can unleash Casey and have him deal with the situation," the Director relented and ended the call.

He slipped his cell phone back into the pocket of his jacket and sighed tiredly. At the very least he had bought a little more time to find out what happened to the Intersect and come up with a plan. If Sam had no part in this theft, except to be collateral damage in Zondra's nefarious schemes, he could not in good conscience let anything happen to her.

* * *

Another dizzy spell washed over her and she leaned against the doorpost of her walk-in closet. The horrible headache had subsided a little over the afternoon, but her mind still felt like it was put in concrete.

After being brought to her front door by Chuck, she had decided against lunch in favor of a nap. However the much needed sleep had eluded her. Each time she had closed her eyes, her mind had flashed like a stroboscope. Incoherent. Disturbing. Exhausting. And each time she had been close to drifting off, her mind had pulled her away from that edge, forcing her back into the present.

At one point she had simply given up on getting some sleep, had gotten up and had taken a shower. The sore muscles in her back and neck had been grateful for the warm, soothing stream of water, and she had stayed longer than she had intended.

Now she was rifling through her clothes in her closet. It was a disheartening event; just about everything was old-fashioned and drab. Really, it was hopeless.

Her despair grew even more when she glanced at her watch and realized there was no time to go out and buy something half decent. Or decent, if she could get Bryce to come along.

"Sam, you home?" Bryce called from the hallway.

Speak of the devil, she smirked. Maybe all was not lost after all?

"In here," she called back.

A gasp of shock, and a clearly fake one she could tell, drifted into her room and she turned to see Bryce staring at her with an amused look on his face.

"You really hit your head hard," he teased.

"Ellie invited me over for dinner," she defended herself.

"So? She does that all the time," he countered.

"Her little brother is in town."

The words were out of her mouth before she realized it. She was in trouble now, because Bryce loved nothing more than tease her mercilessly with the non-existent romance between Ellie's brother and her.

He studied her with interest, and she shifted back and forth on her feet under the weight of his bright blue gaze. Suddenly he burst into laughter and her temper rose a notch.

"Dress to impress? That shouldn't be too hard with your figure."

She rolled her eyes at that statement: "Oh, please."

"What?" He tried to sound offended. "You've got a lot going for you. With a little bit of effort, you'd be drop dead gorgeous," he stated with vehement conviction, which almost made her believe him.

* * *

"Chuckster!" Devon exclaimed, grabbing him in a bear hug that almost matched one of Ellie's. "Been too long, bro... Heard you played knight in shining armor for Sam."

"It was nothing. Just a ride home," he said in all modesty.

"Still awesome. High five."

Devon seemed to be the poster child for a brainless jock, but he knew it was simply fronting. His dumb act was a means to break the ice and a very good way to keep people from asking for free medical advice upon meeting him.

He shook his head and smiled warmly, high fiving his sister's boyfriend. It beat getting another bear hug.

"How's life up north?"

That got a good laugh out of him: "You make it sound like I live on the North Pole."

"We only get to see you once a year. Maybe you are Santa?" Devon chuckled. "Coming to see if we're being naughty or nice."

"It's nowhere near Christmas, and you are nothing but nice, Awesome. Unlike my big sis, who is constantly playing matchmaker. Reason enough to put her on the naughty list."

* * *

"Euh... hi?" She greeted with a slow smile when she caught the look of awe on Chuck's face after he answered the door for Ellie.

With Bryce's help she had managed to put together a decent outfit without looking like a gray mouse. She had to admit that her roommate had impeccable taste when it came to fashion, and now he had finally managed to rope her into going shopping for a better wardrobe.

"Hi," he grinned widely, taking her in from top to toe twice as if he could not believe his eyes.

Was it too late to turn back and cancel dinner? But that would mean that she would have to miss his appreciative look. Matched with that awesome grin, it made her feel quite silly all of a sudden. That feeling was immediately followed by sadness; what would a sophisticated, worldly guy like him ever want with a girl like her?

"Com'on in," he smiled, taking a step back so she could enter.

"Hey, Devon, Ellie," she greeted her friends with a little wave.

As if on cue, Ellie emerged from the kitchen with a salad bowl in her hands: "Hey... Sam?" The look on Ellie's face was priceless.

Devon simply gave her two thumbs up with an accompanying "Awesome". So far she had only received positive reactions, and if she had to admit it, it did flatter her ego quite a bit.

"Wow, Sam! I knew you had it in you, but wow," Ellie gushed after she had placed the bowl on the table and had rushed over. "Twirl, girl."

She could not help but giggle and spun around once. At Bryce's insistence, she had chosen to wear skintight jeans emphasizing her long legs, a white blouse with lace frills and medium height brown boots. And he had even gotten her to flat iron her hair, but she had drawn the line at dying her hair back to her original blonde color.

What the hell was wrong with her? Not only did she have the ability to identify bad guys all of a sudden, now she was going miles out of her comfort zone to impress a man. Bryce had been right; she must have hit her head pretty hard.

* * *

He suppressed the urge to rest his head in his hands. Time was running out quickly, and he had yet to come up with a solid plan before the clock struck twelve.

Dinner had gone great; the food had been prepared to perfection and the conversation had been easygoing with lots of laughter. It had been a blessing and a curse to be seated across the table from Sam. A blessing because it given him ample opportunity to observe and determine, and a curse because his gaze kept being drawn to those mesmeric light blue eyes, distracting him each time.

He rubbed his eyebrows, earning a curious look from his big sister: "Another headache, Chuck?"

"Just tired, sis. Been a long day for me," he managed to smile.

"You sure you want to drive back to Bakersfield tonight?" Ellie offered, the concern present in her voice and on her face.

"It's not that far, El. And I can always get a motel room if I'm too tired."

"Don't be silly. You're more than welcome to spend the night in the guest room."

"Fine," he gave in with a sigh of defeat.

His eyes trailed to his mark again. He had noticed that small talk came very easy to her; she was very knowledgeable on a wide range of topics, a conversationalist, yet when it came down to something personal, she would withdraw without a moment's notice. It made him wonder if he had not been wrong about her in the first place.

There could be a number of reasons for her instant wall building act. It did not have to be something evil. Perhaps she was not the sharing kind, especially with someone she had only met hours before. Or maybe she had been hurt by something or someone in the past.

* * *

During dinner and hanging out afterwards, she had tried to get a read on Chuck. He seemed genuine, laughing and joking, telling funny stories about his best friend and about himself. But he avoided topics like what he did for a living. It gave her the distinct feeling that he was holding something back.

Or maybe it was her slowly increasing paranoia talking? Her day had been peculiar, if not downright scary at one time. Knowing the full rap sheet of a criminal in the blink of an eye was definitely unsettling, and not something she would like to see repeated soon.

"Devon, why don't you go and prepare the guest room for Chuck?" Ellie suggested in a tone of voice that told all it was not open for debate.

Chuck opened his mouth to protest and shut it just as quickly when he saw the stern look on his sister's face.

An awkward silence settled in, with Chuck checking his watch again. It was something he had been doing an awful lot this evening. Like he had other plans or was waiting for something or someone. It made her a little tense.

* * *

A little less than an hour left before the deadline expired and he was still without a good plan. All his observations pointed at Sam being anything but the threat to national securities as his superiors thought her to be.

He had thought about triggering a flash to confirm his suspicions, but his sister would surely think that Sam was having a seizure or something similar to be contributed to bumping her head after the fall. There was only one way out; he had to tell her the truth.

It would probably not save her from being dropped in a bunker or getting a bullet between her eyes, but she deserved to know why the government wanted her dead or locked away.

"Sam, can I talk to you?"

A suppressed squeal from his sister, he had expected no less. It brought a faint smile to his face, if only she was right. He looked at her and could see her tremble with excitement. Sam, on the other hand, looked extremely uneasy.

"Outside?" He put forward with a reassuring smile. "Uh uh uh," he shook his head at his sister, trying to subdue her obvious overexcitement.

"Sure," Sam answered as confidently as possible.

* * *

Worry seeped into her thoughts. What on earth could he possibly want from her? Dinner had gone just fine and she had managed not to make a fool out of herself.

"Sit," he told her while he nodded at the fountain.

For a moment she considered being stubborn and remain standing, but the look on his face was quite serious. So she sat down, only to nearly fall off while scurrying away from him when he sat down next to her; it was a little too close for comfort if you asked her. Immediately he reached for her and kept from ending up on the floor for a second time in less than twenty-four hours. She marveled over how firm yet gentle his grip on her upper arm was.

"So what's up?" She asked in an attempt to change the course her thoughts were taking.

Her brows knitted together in wonder as he gave quite the rendition of a fish out of water. Whatever he wanted to tell her, he was struggling to say it. Did it have to do with Jill? Just like her best friend she hated that woman with a passion, but mentioning the name in front of Ellie was like poking an already furious mama bear. She was not sure why she hated Jill. Maybe because Ellie did? That had to be it: hate by proxy, and nothing else.

* * *

"How well do you know Zondra Rizzo?" He finally probed.

"Zondra? She was my roommate in college... How do you know Zondra?" She sounded completely caught off guard.

"Did she try to contact you?" He chose to ignore her question.

With a little bit of luck, there would be time to answer any and all questions she might have. He owed her that much.

"No, she... She sent me an email yesterday."

"Did you open it?

"Yes... Was I not supposed to?"

He took a couple of deep breaths. All but one of his suspicions had just been confirmed. He reached inside his jacket, pulled out his federal ID and held it out to her. It made him feel quite dirty but he had to do this. He had to make sure.

* * *

"CIA?" She asked surprised when she took it.

One glance at the credentials sent the strange tingle running through her brain, immediately followed by the sharp tug at the back of her mind. Another torrent of images flashed by.

"Tsugh," she muttered, shaking her head instantly to clear her mind but ending up upgrading her headache from slumbering to omnipresent. "Charles Irving Bartowski, aka Charles Carmichael. Codename: Cyberus. Lead data analyst for Project Omaha. Intersect trial run survivor."

"Uh huh," he confirmed. "You flashed, didn't you?"

She was at a complete loss. Flashed? All she understood this very moment that something was very wrong with her and that she was remembering things she should not know. Highly sensitive, super secretive things. A deep panic began to set in.

"The email Zondra sent you, it contained a file. That file contained an undefined number of pictures, all encoded with government secrets. If you saw them, you know them," he explained in a soothing voice when she kept quiet, trying to process the flood of information.  
She had all these secrets downloaded into her head? Impossible, that was science fiction. And Chuck? He was certifiably crazy. Her instincts took over, following the overwhelming urge to run, and she took off like the wind.

"Sam, no!" He shouted after her.

She looked back over her shoulder to see if he was giving chase. A new despair and a stronger need to run even faster came over her when she saw that he was actually closing in on her. All of a sudden she found an immovable object in her way. Obscure, big and rugged. Unable to avoid it she slammed right into it, falling backward, the wind knocked from her lungs. Her eyes trailed up and she saw a hulking man in a dark suit standing over her. The expression on his face was neutral but in his eyes burned a devilish fire of delight.


	4. Chapter 4: Versus the Good Night's Sleep

**A/N:** A huge thank you to the readers and the reviewers. As I said in the A/N for Chapter 3, it is the ink to my pen and the fuel to my inspiration. So I got this chapter written two days ahead of schedule.

Guest #2: Not entirely sure on the rating myself anymore. So far I have managed to behave and not gone off the reservation yet. It might very well be a safety net just in case, or a force of habit since I did write stories in another fan fiction universe that did ask for an M rating.

Nomadic Nerd: It's in one of my plot outlines to hopefully give a plausible reason as to why the flashes seem to happen rather randomly.

BCC1: Thank you, but my first language still is Dutch. Though I might take that cat and medal idea and run with it, lol. The old lady plot was an exaggeration on my part, but the idea popped into my head when jotting down the outline for Chapter 3 and I couldn't resist using it.

GCG23: Not telling on that bit of being or persona just yet since it would be spoiling one of the plotlines.

As always, reviews are most welcome and very much appreciated. Seeing that I have yet to go on a cursing spree resulting in a gore fest, I will lower the rating for M to T for now. But if future plots call for it, it will go up to M again, but maybe I'll be able to keep it at a suggestion level and get away with it.

Anyway... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'Chuck'.

* * *

She blinked a few times, trying to regain her composure and assess the situation she was currently in. It felt like time had come to an abrupt halt. Her instincts kicked in again; she began to crawl backwards, away from the inert man in black. At a seemingly safe distance she swiftly turned over and scrambled to her feet.

Not looking where she was going, she ran smack into Chuck and staggered back. For a second time in a short while she felt his hands close around her upper arms, keeping her upright.

"Sam, wait," Chuck said in a soft voice, looking past her at the other man. "You're early, Casey," he grumbled while he checked his watch again.

Confusion. Fear. A hint of anger. Her heart was beating frantically in her chest. What the hell was going on?

"Good thing too. The point was to grab her, not send her running," the man called Casey groused.

* * *

Unaware of what was actually happening a few yards away from the apartment complex, she noticed that Sam and Chuck were nowhere to be seen. She took it as a sign that her plan was finally working.

"Babe, leave 'em alone," Devon said while he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "There's something as pushing it too much."

"I know," she agreed dejectedly. "It's just... I think they'd be good for each other. I mean, look at my little brother. Five years and he's still pining for that Roberts bitch."

"You want Sam to be the rebound girl?" She could hear the disbelief in his voice.

He had a point there. Sam was too good to simply be the rebound girl for her brother. She heaved a deep sigh and shook her head. It was not that simple, it never was. She decided to ignore his question since it forced her to think longer about Jill than she wanted. _'That damn bitch!'_

"And Sam, you know her poor history with men, and you saw how she looked tonight. It's the first time I've seen her put a real effort into how she looks."

"Still it would be a bad idea to force them together, babe. It could seriously backfire."

Her boyfriend could be so clueless at times. Clearly he had missed the obvious signs, but she had not. She had seen the shy glances passed between them when one thought the other was not looking. There was no mistake; the connection was there. She could not be more excited if she tried.

* * *

He growled darkly. This farce had gone on long enough. It was time to put it to an end and move on to the next assignment.

"Bang up job, Agent Bartowski," he scoffed. "CIA... Completely Incompetent Asses."

"Your reputation of Prince Charming precedes you, Agent Casey," the other agent said with a wry smile.

"Put a sock in it," he growled. "It's late. I'm tired... Let's cut the crap and give her to me now. She belongs to the NSA."

"The CIA gets her first!" Agent Bartowski said while he pulled out his gun and aimed at the mark who took a step back in shock: "You come any closer and I shoot."

"With a tranq gun? Really?" He scoffed again, drawing his own gun and pointing it at the rival agent. "I knew the CIA was soft-hearted but this really takes the cake. Fine, you shoot her, I shoot you. I leave your body here and secure her, then go out for a late snack. I'm thinking maybe pancakes."

Agent Bartowski looked at him warily. The mark looked at him with a mixture of confusion and horror.

"What the hell is going on?" The mark asked after a long, heavy silence in which he tried to stare down the other agent. "What's happening to me?"

"Sam saw the encoded pictures, Agent Casey... She is the computer," Agent Bartowski stated as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Wait a minute... You're telling me all of our secrets are in her head?" He queried while he directed his gun at the mark's forehead which had the CIA agent aim his gun at him.

"Sam is the Intersect," Agent Bartowski informed him.

* * *

That was it: the final straw. She was done. Done with being ignored. Done with being pushed around. Lied to, held at gunpoint, and now they were talking about her as if she were some object and not a person, as if she was not even there.

She pushed her initial fear down hard and let it be replaced by a deep anger. The entire day had been surreal and nothing had gone in her favor. She was exhausted with a sore back and a horrible headache.

Though not unfamiliar with running, since she tried to run once or twice a week on her days off, the impromptu sprint had drained her of the last bit of energy and patience she had left to deal with this insane situation.

She looked at the bickering agents again and clenched her fists at her sides.

"Zondra sent me that email," she interrupted them rudely. "I'm the one remembering your secrets. Which means you have to listen to me, both of you," she emphasized her point by glaring at them while pointing from one to another. "You need me. So here's what's gonna happen: I'm going home to sleep, you two duke it out and whoever wins can come find me in the morning."

She sidestepped Chuck and stalked back to the apartment complex, leaving the two agents completely baffled. Somehow it brought out a small smile of victory, though she was sure that her supremacy would not last.

* * *

It did not take him long to set up a secure video connection with their superiors. With his laptop parked on the roof of his car, they were now staring at the anything but pleased faces of Director Graham and General Beckman. The Director especially looked like he had swallowed a beehive.

"Care to tell me why the asset is still out there? And not dead or dropped in a bunker?" General Beckman scowled at them.

"Judgment call, ma'am," Casey replied before he could.

It confused him; if anything, he had expected Casey to turn on him, but maybe he had gotten through to the veteran after that lengthy discussion?

General Beckman raised an eyebrow sardonically and stared at them silently for a few seconds: "Judgment call? I thought the orders had been pretty clear, Major."

"They were, ma'am. But the situation asks for a different approach. So it is my observation that she will be far more useful out in the field than she would be in a bunker. Or dead."

"What's your take on this, Agent Bartowski?" Director Graham asked.

"I have to agree with Major Casey on this, sir, ma'am... It is my assessment that Sam is no threat to national security, all the evidence I found support that notion... She is a hardworking civilian with friends and a life so it appears to be disproportional to drop her in a bunker, for simply being the victim of an unfortunate coincidence... Also, I think that will be beneficial and informative for Project Omaha to study how the Intersect fares in a layman-"

"That's just fine and dandy, but it does not change the fact that we cannot have the Intersect running around L.A. without any supervision," General Beckman interrupted his report bluntly.

"And she won't, ma'am," he stated confidently, a plan already formed in his head. "As part of Project Omaha, I volunteer to move back to L.A. to observe and report."

"You're offering to be a handler?" The Director inquired skeptically.

"Yes, sir," he nodded.

"Fine," General Beckman cut in before Director Graham could object, which he was about to telling by the look on his face. "In that case I will appoint you, Major Casey, as the handler for the NSA."

* * *

Two hours! For two godforsaken hours she had been tossing and turning in her bed. The liberating sleep remained far out of her reach. Pushed past exhaustion, her mind had struck an infinite loop, going over and over the same events again and again.

Each time she closed her eyes in an attempt to fall asleep, she would stare down the barrel of the gun the looming agent had held. It was not an accurate depiction of the situation, but it appeared it was the one thing her mind was struggling the most with; she had never been held at gunpoint or even seen a gun before.

Opening her eyes again and sighing disappointedly, she glanced at her alarm clock, only four minutes had passed since she had looked at it last. This was not working, so she switched on the light closest to her, got up and went over to her desk. A deep sadness settled in when she saw her computer and knew it was completely fried; all that upgrading and tweaking for nothing.

After a short search she returned to her bed with a pen and notepad in hand. Sitting down cross-legged, she began to jot down what she knew, what kept milling around in her mind. Maybe if she wrote it down, she could get it out of her system by giving it a place.

* Intersect. Database. Government secrets.

* Zondra Rizzo. CIA. Spy. Sent me the Intersect. Why?

* Chuck Bartowski. Ellie's brother. CIA. Project Omaha. Cyberus. Analyst. Knows about Intersect and 'flashing'.

* Casey. NSA.

* Derek Walters. Unrelated? Criminal. 'Flashed' on him.

Looking over the notes, it appeared to be even more confusing. A feeling of defeat came over her: "I give up," she sighed, tossing the pen and notepad aside.

* * *

There would be no sleep for him tonight, and he doubted there would be any for Sam. After setting perimeter alerts that would inform him of any comings and goings into the courtyard, he had retreated to his car, not wanting to wake his sister and his boyfriend.

He made himself as comfortable as possible in the driver's seat and watched the screen of his laptop. It was an old file, one he knew all too well. It reported the findings of the team of scientists and analysts who had monitored his trial runs with the earlier versions of the Intersect.

Sam would not sleep until she crashed. The embedding of the Intersect in her brain would prevent her from sleeping. It had taken him four days after his first upload to finally crash, and he had been a willing participant. The second and third time his brain had shown a much easier time with processing the information overload. Now it was simply suppressed until the latest version was ready.

The very version that was now in Sam's head, courtesy of Agent Rizzo. The test trial studies had resulted in a way to suppress it but so far there was no evidence to support that it would remain that way. In fact it seemed the opposite; even he suffered from the occasional random flash.

For Sam, suppressing it would mean signing her immediate death sentence. There was not a chance that the involved agencies would allow her to live a normal life. He hit the steering wheel with the ball of his hand in pure frustration. He really hated the 'life or death' part of his job, and hated it even more now that an innocent citizen could pay the ultimate price. All Sam was guilty of was being friends with that traitor Zondra.

His laptop beeped, and he glanced at it. Someone had left the courtyard. He looked out the window and saw Sam walk off, huddled and hurried. After closing the lid of his laptop and stuffing it under the passenger seat, he got out of the car and locked it.

* * *

"There's nowhere I can run, is there?" She concluded sadly when he sat down next to her on the park bench.

Normally she would not have been so bold as to go for a walk alone in the middle of the night, but she had given up on sleeping and had grown restless just lying in her bed. She had needed to get out of the apartment, had wanted to clear her mind. The cool night air had just been the thing she needed.

She had wandered along the shore of Echo Park Lake, with one, if not both, agent**s** following in her shadows. He had made no effort to hide his presence, tracking her at a safe distance; not too distant to make her a target for malicious people and not too close to give her the space she wished for. He was simply there, like a second shadow.

"Not from us," Chuck answered honestly.

She looked at the lake again, quietly thinking about his answer and what it came down to. Running had never been an option. Either one would hunt her down and deal with her in their own way.

"Talk to me, Sam," he said in a gentle voice.

"Yesterday I was making eleven bucks an hour fixing computers. Now I have one in my brain. And I can't figure out why Zondra did this, why she chose me? What are you going to do with me? What happens now?"

She looked at him from the corner of her eyes and saw him swallow a few times.

"For now, you go back to your own life. We'll protect you and you'll work with us."

"And my friends, your sister, are they in danger?"

"Tell them nothing to keep them safe," he answered.

"Not even Ellie?"

"Not even Ellie."

"Does she know that you work for the CIA?"

He answered with a single nod: "She does but not to the full extent. She thinks I'm a paper pusher, and it's best if she keeps thinking that or I best hide from her in a bunker."

It brought a faint smile to her face. Her best friend could be downright scary.

"I need you to do one more thing for me," he said while he turned his head to look at her.

"Yeah?"

"Trust me, Sam."

If he had asked her that question before her world got turned upside down, she might have had an easier time deciding whether to trust him or not. He had already tried to deceive her once, and given his line of work, without a doubt, he would again in the near future.

* * *

The first thing he noticed when the secure video connection was established for their next briefing was the absence of Director Graham, which was fine with him. He really did not care for that schmuck and the horse he rode in on. It was already bad enough that he had to play nice with that goof Bartowski for the time being.

General Beckman took a deep breath while gathering some papers on her desk: "Alright, after quite some deliberation it's been decided that the asset stays out. For now. Which means you have your new mission."

He perked up at the prospect of a new mission.

"Major Casey," the General addressed him first, and he stood a little taller. "As it happens to be there is a job available at the Burbank Buy More. We have put your name forward and want you to take it, use it to keep an eye on the asset."

He noticed the amused look on the other agent's face and cracked his knuckles to intimidate him, to no avail when that stupid grin on Bartowski's face did not disappear. If that CIA nerd kept it up like that, he would have to set him straight. The simple idea was enough to bring a smirk to his face.

"Furthermore, the NSA managed to acquire an apartment at the complex where the asset lives. You can move in today. The CIA and the NSA will provide in whatever you need for the job."

"I have to live next door to the geek?" He grunted obviously displeased.

"Is that a problem, Major Casey?" General Beckman asked sternly.

"No, ma'am."

"Good. Which brings me to you, Agent Bartowski."

"Ma'am," Chuck acknowledged the General.

"Since you've already established a rapport with her, we want you to pose as the asset's boyfriend."

Laughter rose from deep within his chest when he saw the smug look on Bartowski's face replaced with one of complete disbelief. This was going to be good. So he made no attempt to hold his laughter in.

"It will allow you to infiltrate the asset's life and to find out as much as you can about her while protecting her without raising suspicion," General Beckman explained the reasoning behind it.

* * *

Casey growled amused: "Are you sure, ma'am? Given that they're both geeks, isn't it like the blind leading the blind?"

He glared at his new colleague, who responded with a malicious grin. As if matters had not been complicated enough, he now had to face the consequences of a fake relationship with the woman his sister had been trying to set him up with for quite a while now. He had pretended to be blind to Ellie's obvious attempts, only allowing her a victory here and there to not disillusion her. He was a spy, trained to deceive. Still his conscience always gnawed at him when he had to lie to his big sister.

"Furthermore, Director Graham has managed to find you a job. Tomorrow you will start your job at the Wienerlicious across the parking lot of the Buy More," General Beckman ignored the jab.

There was no doubt in his mind that this was some kind of twisted payback from Director Graham. But before he could think on it some more, Casey let out a strange sounding grunt. A quick glance to his left told him that he was suppressing his laughter, but failing miserably.

"So it wouldn't hurt if you drop in today and introduce yourself to your supervisor, Scooter," the General continued undisturbed.

"Scooter!" Casey guffawed.

"Major Casey, get a hold of yourself!" General Beckman ordered visibly annoyed. "This is no laughing matter."

"Sorry, ma'am," Casey said shamefaced.

"Any questions?"

"No, ma'am," Casey answered.

"Got one, General... Where am I supposed to live?"

"With your sister, of course," she stated straightforward. "One more thing, Agents Casey and Bartowski, we want you to go in and case the Buy More and surrounding areas. Look for possible weak sport and report them as such."

Without another word General Beckman ended the connection. He let out a deep sigh. Thus far he had really gotten the short end of the stick: a stupid job, moving back in with his sister, a fake relationship. In his opinion there was not much that could make this situation even worse.

Suddenly Casey burst into laughter again. Of course would the NSA agent find this situation amusing. It was nothing short of torture.

"You know that means you have to live next door to two geeks, don't you?" He just had to remind his reluctant colleague.

The gruff agent went from laughing fit to a terrifying scowl in mere seconds. To be on the safe side, he took a step back. Casey growled: "Well, you better go and tell the asset that her single days are officially over, Bartowski."


	5. Chapter 5: Versus the New Guy

**A/N:** Again a chapter ahead of schedule. It's inspiring to read the reviews and see how much traffic the story gets. So again a huge thank you to the readers and followers.

Joe-El: I seriously doubt I would follow the amnesia arc. I might do something even more evil *insert evil laugh* like go for a true happy ending.

Nabla: I hadn't noticed that I cut a corner there, and neither did my ghost reader who is now permanently residing in a bunker. Nah, just kidding, she's awesome for putting up with me. I did cut it short there, but I always felt that Casey and Sarah got along too quickly so I'm dragging that bit between Chuck and Casey out a little longer. I do agree that it could've been a bit longer in Chapter 4.

Nomadic Nerd: Did you by chance steal my notepad with the chapter 5 outlines? Or were you simply onto me?

As always, reviews are most welcome and very much appreciated... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'Chuck'.

* * *

His brows drew together in a deep frown; it was nothing like Sam to be this late for work. The odd few minutes now and then, but even that was a rare occasion. Immediately he began to wonder. For as far as he knew she had not come home last night, her bed still made when he went to check in on her before he had left for work.

"Oh, you naughty, naughty girl," he whispered with a huge, mischievous grin when the most logical explanation came to mind.

He knew that his best friend was not the kind of woman for a one night stand. She held higher standards than that, but maybe with the right guy and under the right circumstances it was not entirely unfeasible. It had been quite the surprise yesterday when she had asked him to help her pick out an outfit for a simple dinner date with the Bartowskis.

"Who's a naughty girl?" Lester asked behind him.

He nearly jumped a foot in the air and whirled around: "Sheesh, Lester, and Jeff," he grumbled shakily when he was confronted with the Buy More's terrible twosome. "None of your business, by the way."

"It's Sam, isn't it?" Jeff inquired with a weird eye roll. "I knew that girl is nasty."

He balled his fists at his sides, ready to strike at the next bad comment. By now, after working there for five years, he should have been used to Jeff and Lester, their shenanigans and grossly inappropriate remarks, but this was Sam, his friend and their colleague. Besides he regarded it as his sole prerogative to tease her mercilessly.

"Hey, guys," Sam startled the three of them.

"Well, well, well," he said in a stern fatherly manner. "And where have you been, young lady?"

She lifted an eyebrow sardonically,and gave him a look that told him that it was none of his business. It came as a relief since that was nothing out of the ordinary. After being friends with Sam for nearly two decades he knew that feelings and all things related were not her favorite topic to talk about. In fact if she could avoid it in any way or form, she most definitely would.

"Sam! Get in here!" Big Mike bellowed from the door opening of his office.

"Someone's in trouble," Jeff was no stranger to stating the obvious.

"Later," Sam sighed wearily and trudged in the direction of the manager's office.

Another deep frown creased his brows and he tilted his head a little, watching her curiously. Whatever happened last night, it had impacted her greatly, and so far he did not think it was a great thing. He would need to have a word with this Chuck Bartowski.

* * *

_'First things first,'_ he thought as he pulled into the small parking lot next to the Wienerlicious.

After making sure Sam had arrived at the Buy More safe and sound, where Casey would take over guard duty, he had decided the next logical step was to go and introduce himself to his future supervisor. It was just stalling, to put off the one conversation he really did not want to have, but it would be inevitable.

"Who would call their kid Scooter?" He wondered aloud.

The more he had thought about it, the more he was convinced that Director Graham had arranged this on purpose, if only to remind him of his place within the Agency. The understanding between the Director and him was best described as shaky.

As long as he had had a fully operating Intersect in his head, the Director had been very forthcoming in his efforts, but from the moment the Intersect had gone into a state of being suppressed, the man had done his very best to remind him that he was not a field agent, only an analyst. Even if he had been the most important part of Project Omaha.

Now that he had gone against the Director's orders and wishes, and not for the first time, it would not remain without repercussions. Thus this cover job at the Wienerlicious, demeaning and preposterous was a complete waste of his talents and college degree.

Nevertheless he was not entirely convinced that he would want to trade with Agent Casey either; he had worked at this Buy More one summer before he had left for Stanford, and to say that the store's staff was dysfunctional was actually a compliment. Yet if he was given the choice, he would pick the Buy More because it would match his skill set slightly better. It had absolutely nothing to do with Sam working there.

* * *

Big Mike's office always smelled of coffee and pastries, a welcome scent this very moment. She remained standing in front of his desk in a fashion best described as the civilian version of parade rest.

"Any reason as to why you're this late?" Big Mike asked before he took a bite of his donut.

"Sorry, I lost track of time this morning," she replied apologetically. "Next thing I was running a little late."

He seemed to ponder her answer and then nodded: "Bryce told me that you had a bit of an accident yesterday and hit your head, so I'll cut you some slack this time, but don't make it a habit. I can't afford having to fire my best employee."

Fired? No matter how sad the job circumstances were, she could not afford to lose her job. Not with rent to pay and food to buy. Of course Bryce would chip in generously if she was a little short on money but she did not want to leech off him.

"In fact," Big Mike continued when she kept quiet. "I want you to apply for the assistant manager's position. It'll be between Harry and you, but people like you a lot more, and for some reason the crazies listen to you. So it should be a shoe-in."

"I don't know, Big Mike."

She managed to keep the snort of disbelief down. A lot had changed in the time span of thirty-six hours and she still had to wrap her head around the majority of it. She was still trying to understand how she had gone from a seemingly nobody to government property, and why Zondra had picked her.

Feeling she had been left no other choice, she had agreed to cooperate when and if she could, but that did not mean she had to like it. The few flashes she had suffered so far had left her debilitated and disorientated with a slight headache in their wake.

"I'll think about it," she offered upon seeing the look of despair on her boss' face.

He broke out in a big smile: "Good... Now go train the new guy."

The conversation was clearly over as Big Mike returned his attention to his donuts and tabloid. She left the office, only to find Casey waiting for her near the printer appliances. He gave her a smug look while crossing his arms.

"Oh boy," she groaned tiredly.

* * *

He suddenly snarled at them both. The Indian guy squealed like a frightened piglet and hid behind his weird friend. They had been circling him like vultures ever since he had come out of the break room, as if he was a fresh corpse and that was something he did not like.

"Huh," he chortled amused at their reaction while he scanned the store for the asset.

She was nowhere in sight. Maybe she had felt too poorly and had decided to take the rest of the day off? If so, he would blame that moron Bartowski for it. Why the hell had the CIA nerd decided that it was a good idea to be so blatantly honest with her? The woman was nothing more than an asset, albeit probably the most important in the world right now. To be used at present,and to be burned when the operation was over.

By that time that bleeding heart Bartowski would most likely come up with a hundred reasons and an equal amount of excuses why not to follow through on the termination order. He bared his teeth in a dark grin; Bleeding Heart Bartowski, he had to remember that one.

The idiot should have remained chained to a desk until he fully understood what it meant to be a spy. Honesty, like Agent Bartowski had displayed last night, was a deadly sin in their game of shadows.

Nevertheless, in spite of the unorthodox method, the CIA agent had managed to gain the asset's trust and had gotten her to cooperate with them fully. He hated to admit it, but his unwanted coworker had argued a very strong case for the asset's freedom and wellbeing with him, and with their superiors. That the Intersect would be useless locked away in a bunker. That millions in taxpayer money would have been wasted. Then salvaging the situation by suggesting to put the asset to good use.

He still had his doubts; He had to work with what and half what. It could be worse though. He let out a deep growl, faking a lunge at the two store lunatics who ran into each other in fright and ended up on their asses on the floor.

"Casey!" Sam exclaimed annoyed, giving him a look of complete disbelief.

* * *

He was used to dealing with very obnoxious people, like General Beckman, Director Graham and even Morgan during one of his Red Bull detoxes, but this Scooter character was of an entirely different level. It was the last piece of evidence he needed to know that this had been the Director's revenge.

Scooter dropped a binder on the table and then placed a hand on top of it while looking solemnly as if it were some kind of holy book.

"This is the Wienerlicious employee instruction manual. Read it. Know it. Apply it," Scooter told him in a stern voice.

He had to be kidding, right? After taking a deep breath, he took the binder and flipped through its contents. Whomever had written this had to be a stickler for the rules. The most absurd things were covered. Looking at his future supervisor, he had the sinking feeling that he was facing the author.  
"Before your first shift," Scooter added dryly.

Surely he was joking. However so far Scooter had shown a complete lack of humor, so that meant he was serious about this. The muscles in his upper arms tensed a little; there was no way he was going to read, know and apply all of this nonsense for some cover job. He had more important matters to attend to, such as Sam's safety.

In fact, he could not really care that it was not allowed to wait on giant, intellectually superior, fluffy bunnies after they invaded earth, and that he should politely ask them to leave the premises because of health code violations. The writer of this manual had some serious mental issues.

"You wrote this, didn't you?" He asked while he tapped on the cover of the binder.

"Yes, I did," Scooter answered proudly.

"Your parents did a real number on you, didn't they?" He followed up.

"Yes, they did."

* * *

She had an extremely hard time keeping her thoughts together, let alone organized. They seemed to wander all over the place. Yet it appeared like there was only one thing on her mind: the brunet with the warm, kind eyes of which the color ranged from amber to forest green depending on the angle of light. As if uploading the Intersect by accident was not enough, fate had thrown her best friend's little brother into the mix as well.

She scanned the store for her trainee. It was turning out to be quite the challenge to train Casey and already she had stepped in to prevent worse. Especially Jeff and Lester thought it necessary to torment the new guy, even after the trashcan and the deep freezer incident. She had to give it to them; they were very persistent, but if it was wise or healthy what they were doing was an entirely different matter.

Luckily Jeff and Lester had ceased their attempts to haze Casey and were skulking around on the other side of the store.

"Excuse me, Miss?" A young woman drew her attention.

"How can I help you?" She asked with her standard Buy More smile.

"I'm here about this," the woman said, her cell phone in her hand. "Can you fix it?"

Happy with the diversion, she took the cell phone and examined it: "Absolutely. Just give me a few minutes."

* * *

He knew that he should feel bad about his little act of mischief but he simply could not. At least he had changed the sign from 'open' to 'closed' when he had left the Wienerlicious. That had to account for something.

After taking a deep breath and putting a measured smile on his face, he approached the Nerd Herd desk and the asset: "Hey, Sam."

Her head shot up and she nearly dropped what she was working on. He caught sight of Casey in his periphery vision and smirked. The gruff agent looked ready to kill the first person to bother him. He frowned when he saw two more familiar faces. _'Isn't that Jeff Barns? And Harry Tang?'_

"Uh, hi, Chuck," she stammered nervously.

He leaned casually over the desk and looked at the cell phone she was holding.

"Ah, the infamous IntelliCell," he said with a genuine smile. "It has a little screw that pops loose right in the back there. "

"Hmm-mmm," she nodded, digging up a small screwdriver to tighten the screw. "Anything I can do for you?"

"We need to talk... In private."

"Just a sec," she mumbled before she checked the unwilling phone and smiled when it worked again. "And done... Thanks."

She checked the store, her gaze coming to rest on a secluded area: "Come with me."

He followed her to the home theatre room and made sure that the doors were locked. Casey came storming up, but this was not part of his mission. He shook his head at him which resulted in Casey baring his teeth, ready to snarl but thought better of it. The NSA agent then turned around and went back to his section. He closed the curtains for a little more privacy.

"So what did you want to talk about?" She wasted no time.

"It's about our cover," he began.

She sent him a confused frown: "Cover?"

"Casey's obviously no salesman," he smiled. "But it's his job to keep an eye on you during work hours... And after hours, well... That's the thing we need to talk about it... They want us to pose as girlfriend and boyfriend."

It was clear to say that she was close to freaking out, though if he had been in her shoes he would probably have been less composed.

"W-W-What?" She stammered. "G-Girlfriend and boyfriend? And who's they? The NSA and the CIA?"

He nodded in agreement, waiting patiently for her to catch up. It was not a scenario he would have picked, but General Beckman and Director Graham had been pretty clear that since he had already developed a bond with the asset, he would be the one to keep her contained.

"Pretend to be a couple?.. With you?.. I can't do that, Chuck... I'm not a spy," she sputtered.

"It'll be fine, Sam. Just follow my lead. It should only be for a short time anyway," he said in his most reassuring voice. "Until the Intersect's out."

He could tell from the look on her face that she was thinking about something but was uncertain if she could ask.

"Talk to me, Sam," he encouraged her.

"This cover thing, uh-, the fake relationship, does it include pda?" She asked, a bright blush creeping up to her cheeks. "Sex?" She added in a small voice.

"Some pda, since we'll have to sell it, but sex would be a breach of protocol and very unprofessional," he answered, somewhat relieved that he could use professionalism as an excuse since protocol was not something he was really big on.

Worry rose when she swallowed the wrong way and started to cough. What was he to do now? A real boyfriend or even just a friend would pat her on the beck, but he was neither one and he had no idea how she would react. Still, his helpful nature took over. He let out a silent sigh of relief when she did not bolt, shrug him off or hit him. It was a start.

* * *

"Devon, can you get it?" She called looking up from the magazine she had been skimming through when there was a knock on the front door.

"Sorry, babe, tank's empty," her boyfriend replied while he stretched out on the couch even more.

She rolled her eyes, put the magazine aside and went to get the door. Her eyes widened in surprise when she found her little brother on her doorstep. He had not said goodbye but she had figured that he had gone back to Bakersfield, so to find him in front of her was astonishing.

"Chuck," she breathed as she pulled him into one of her happy bear hugs.

"Hey, sis," he groaned.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, eying the suitcase.

"I was wondering if I could crash here for a couple of days."

She squinted at him in wonder. Surely there had to be a catch.

"Last night I realized that I don't see you enough, so I took a few sick days to hang out with you and Devon," he explained.

Her eyes narrowed even more. Ever since her little brother had gone to work as an analyst for the CIA the job had come first. Something was definitely up. A tidal wave of excitement welled up in the pits of her stomach**,** and she was almost unable to restrain herself when she thought of the reason why he might be so eager to visit.

"So it's not Sam?" She inquired with a shaky voice of suppressed exuberance.

Immediately Chuck looked extremely uncomfortable. She bit down hard on her lower lip when she was almost unable to keep in the squeal of happiness. He did not contradict her, so that had to be it.

"I knew it... I knew it... That once I got the two of you together, you'd hit it off."

"You caught me there," he admitted with a smile. "Just... don't get ahead of yourself, sis. I know you and if I don't stop you, the next thing you'll be doing is looking at tablecloth designs for the wedding."

She glared at him good-naturedly and gave him a soft push on the shoulder. Chuck knew her too well; in situations like this, when her excitement threatened to get the better of her, she tended to go overboard.

"So can I stay?"

The perfect opportunity to tease him and make him even more uncomfortable, and she had to let it go to waste or he would immediately prove that he was right. To avoid a waterfall of words coming from her mouth, she simply grinned at him and nodded.

* * *

Just a few minutes before he had gotten a text message that he had to report in immediately, with his colleague. As luck would have it, he had found the moron in the courtyard.

"H-Ho-How?!" General Beckman stammered furiously on-screen.

It was plain to see that the General was beside herself with anger and had a hard time coming up with the right words without laying an f-bomb carpeting. He looked at his neighbor. At least the idiot had the decency and the smarts to look just as ashamed as he was.

"Agent Bartowski, you tranqed your supervisor? What did he ever do to you? And Major Casey, it is not proper action to stuff two coworkers in a trash can and a deep freezer."

He was barely able to fight off the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Sorry, ma'am," Bartowski took the lead. "It was an accident."

Somehow he doubted that. A goodie two shoes like Agent Bartowski would not tranq someone without a perfectly good reason.

"I expected a lot more from you, the both of you," the General continued her angry rant.

"Sorry, ma'am. It was an accident?" He repeated his colleague's words.

It was nothing of the kind. In fact it had been purely intentional, with Jeff and Lester stalking him like prey. Sam had been busy with a customer when he had seen his chance to set the record straight with the Buy More village idiots.

"What am I to do with the two of you? Both fired within the day, and quite possibly law suits in the near future. What were you thinking?"

Agent Bartowski kept quiet and he decided to follow his example. General Beckman did not need any more antagonizing, and he did not want to end up receiving the worst possible assignments for the rest of his career. Yet it felt satisfyingly wonderful to have stuffed Lester in the trashcan and Jeff in the deep freezer. The latter was so strange that he had asked to close the lid again after Sam had ordered him to release him.

The General remained silent for a long time, glaring from Bartowski to him and back, apparently thinking about the appropriate course of action against her rebelling team.

"Fine," she finally hissed. "We will give you another chance. Major Casey, you are to take Agent Bartowski's job at the Wienerlicious. Agent Bartowski, you will get the job at the Buy More."

"Yes, ma'am," they said simultaneously.

"And, gentlemen, try not to screw up this time," she warned them in a manner that could not be misunderstood.


	6. Chapter 6: Versus the Good Intentions

**A/N:** A huge thank you to the readers, the reviewers and the followers. You're awesome!

I have to admit that I had a little trouble getting started on this chapter this week, not by the lack of ideas but because I kept getting distracted by other... "_Oh, hey there, doggie"_ ... things.

JustMyLuckiness: Thank you for all the reviews!

ChuckFanForever: It is the plan to stay close to the series characters, so that means Casey will get on Chuck's case quite often.

Nomadic Nerd: Changed the game plan, muhahaha, and switched a few things around, but I fear you might be onto something with chapter 7 or 8, if I interpreted the 'muhahaha!' correctly.

RAB: "Two intersects." That angle will come into play for the first time soon.

As always, reviews are most welcome and very much appreciated... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'Chuck'.

* * *

So far the only sounds heard in the apartment was Bryce rummaging through the kitchen in an attempt to find something for dinner, and the occasional sigh she would let out. She was beyond exhaustion but knew that the liberating sleep would not come soon.

The liquid danced in the tumbler and she watched it swirl. Maybe a glass of whiskey would bring some relaxation? She snorted in disbelief. Like that was going to happen.

Bryce had been a sweetheart by offering to take over cooking duty, which she had happily accepted, out of fear that in her woozy state of mind she would burn the water and set fire to the apartment. Still she could not escape the feeling that this was only the calm before storm.

"So this guy, this Chuck, Ellie's brother, he's the reason why you look like an extra on Night of the Living Dead?" Bryce asked from the kitchen.

"Uh, no, and gee thanks," she grumbled insulted, studying the way her drink swirled in the glass.

"Com'on, Sam. He shows up and you're all out of sorts suddenly."

"I had already hit my head before that," she muttered in attempt to deflect. "You try keeping your thoughts together with a splitting headache... And what do you mean "out of sorts"?"

"Suddenly interested in fashion, worrying about your looks, staying out all night," he answered in a casual manner.

She rolled her eyes, not at all liking where this conversation was heading. Though she was most sure that his primary motive was genuine concern, it did not mean he did not have a hidden agenda. She had been hanging out with him enough to know that he could be quite the manipulative buttinski. Especially when a guy was showing interest in her.

Not that he had any designs on her, far from it. She knew that he loved her like the sister that he never had, and the feeling was mutual. Yet it also meant that he had gotten it into his head that it was his obligation to vet the potential boyfriend. It was sweet and annoying at the same time, because he had already nipped two blossoming relationships in the bud in the past.

"Bryce," she sighed warily in spite of his good intentions. "Chuck's Ellie's brother. I didn't want to show up looking like some dusty librarian, and I couldn't sleep because of the headache so I went for a walk."

To anyone else it would have most likely been a sufficient explanation, but this was Bryce.

"In the middle of the night? Alone? Are you insane?" He exclaimed shocked.

She rolled her eyes; she could tell him that she had had a shadow, but that would require too much explaining.

"And that guy you dragged to the home theater room, who was that?" He did not relent.

"That was Chuck," she admitted hesitantly.

"That was Chuck," he echoed and she felt her annoyance rise a level. "What did he want?"

"Nothing, Bryce," she snapped at him.

"Locked doors, closed curtains, just you, and him. That's not nothing. It's how people get talking, Sam," he argued.

"I don't care," she said defiantly before she took a big pull of her drink, grimacing when it burned in the back of her throat. "And it's none of your business anyway," she coughed.

"You're right. It isn't, but I am worried about you. I know you, Sam, and you haven't been acting like yourself the past two days," he conceded.

She suppressed the snort of contempt. Like she had not realized that herself. The Intersect was weighing heavily on her mind, and it did not allow her to sleep so her thoughts and coordination were off. However it was nothing a full, good night's sleep could not fix.

"Can we not talk about it, please?" She growled in a last ditch effort to stop this interrogation.

"Okay, fine... Dinner's almost done," he grumbled darkly.

* * *

With his hands folded under his head he stared at the ceiling of the guest room. _'It's just for a couple of days,'_ he told himself in thoughts. _'And then we can all go back to our old lives.'_

Did he really want to? Sure he had his life and work in Bakersfield, but being around his sister and her boyfriend made him realize how much he missed the only family he had left. Again it had absolutely nothing to do with Sam.

"Who am I kidding?" He mumbled to himself.

Since he had finally met her he had felt stupid for avoiding to meet her for such a long time. Maybe they would not have been in a pretend relationship, but in a real one instead? Maybe he could have intercepted the Intersect file in that case? Maybe the Intersect would have been uploaded into his brain as had been the intention?

So many maybes, but what was done was done. Besides until only very recently he had assumed that he would never be able to get over Jill. It gave him the tiniest bit hope for the future, because, if he could move on, then maybe he would have a family one day.

* * *

"Sam! Get in here!" Big Mike bellowed for the second morning in a row.

Though she had barely slept last night, maybe dozed off a few times, and she had made sure that she had been well on time for her shift this morning**,** so she was rather confused as to why Big Mike wanted to see her.

Maybe it had to do with the aftermath of the disaster that had been John Casey? She had to admit that Jeff and Lester had been asking for it with their stalkerish behavior. However it had been a poor display to treat your new coworkers like that. So it had been no surprise to her that at the end of the day the NSA had been fired, and in a way she was happy to see him gone. Ever since she had seen that murderous glint in his eyes, she had felt uneasy whenever he was around. Like he would kill her if she were to look at him the wrong way.  
"Yes, Big Mike?" She lingered in the doorway.

"Got another new guy for you to train," her boss said. "Given yesterday's catastrophe, try to keep this one in line."

As if out of nowhere, a tall, lanky figure materialized next to her.

"Maybe Bryce would be-" She broke off her objection when she realized who was right beside her. "Chuck?"

He was dressed in the standard Nerd Herder's outfit of a white shirt, gray tie and black slacks. Her heart sank. If he had been a green shirt, she might have been able to pass him off to Bryce. An annoyed sigh escaped her; things were just getting better and better.

"Good. You know each other, so that might save me some trouble. It would be a shame to waste Mr. Bartowski's talents in sales, so I put him with the Herd," Big Mike explained.

* * *

They had quietly made their way to the Nerd Herd desk, but now she stared at him with brooding eyes. Those hypnotic blue eyes had turned cold as glaciers, and he swallowed hard. For some reason it unsettled him having her look at him like that.

"It was not enough to be my pretend boyfriend? You had to come and work here as well?" She hissed through closed teeth. "What's next? Move in with me?"

"Uh, no," he stammered. "It wasn't really my choice though."

"You could've declined the job, botched the interview," she offered making no attempt to hide her anger.

He smiled wryly, readying himself to take a step back in case she would try to hit him: "You don't ignore a direct order from your superior, and since Casey-"

"God, Casey, that ape!" She exclaimed.

"He messed up yesterday, so I have to take over," he stated.

He knew that he could have gone against Beckman's order, and that would have meant that he would have been sent back to his desk in Bakersfield, only to be given the worst assignments unless it involved Project Omaha. The project and the Intersect were his expertise. A newly assigned agent would need to be read in.

Who was to know if his replacement would not simply put in a request for a bunker drop or worse? He could not take the chance. Sam, as the Intersect, was his top priority now and if that meant that he had to play according the rules with his superiors once in a while, so be it.

"Fine, but know that I won't be putting up with any bullshit today. Not after Casey's stunts yesterday," she warned him with another glacial glare.

He gulped nervously. To see her so temperamental did something to him, caused his heartbeat to pick up a little. It was the sleep deprivation, the fact that she now belonged to the government, that had her act so grumpy. Well, at least that's what he hoped for.

"I wasn't planning to be some kind of Casey clone," he offered in palliation.

"Good, happy we're clear on that matter."

* * *

Seeing his best friend with that Chuck character immediately put him on edge. The guy was showing up a little too much for his taste. He narrowed his eyes and studied the interaction between the two of them. There was something fishy going on and he was going to get to the bottom of it. He owed Sam that much.

He sauntered over to the two Nerd Herders and put an easy but fake smile on his face. It was time that he met this Chuck Bartowski: "Hello?"

Sam immediately turned to him, with a guilty look in her eyes. He found that to be quite peculiar, as if he had just caught her red-handedly doing something she definitely should not be doing.

"Bryce, this is Chuck. Chuck, this is Bryce."

She immediately introduced them to each other in an obvious attempt to stop him from studying her.

The tall man immediately extended his hand and smiled friendly at him: "Hey, Bryce, I heard a lot about you. It's nice to finally be able to put a face to the stories Ellie told me about you."

He tilted his head a little to the left. It had not sounded slick or rehearsed, but spontaneous and genuine. Whatever the reason, it made him even more apprehensive; this guy was good.

"Only good things, I hope," he said with a faux smirk while he shook Chuck's hand.

Chuck did not react to his attempt to crush his hand. Instead he only smiled amused and nodded: "Mostly."

"Sam told me you're going on a date?" He checked bluntly.

"Bryce," Sam said in a low hiss.

"Tonight," Chuck replied.

"Tonight," he repeated, the look of surprise on Sam's face not going unnoticed. "Where?"

The guy laughed warmly: "I don't see why that would be any of your business."

That answer rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe Sam could be a little naive when it came to dating and relationships, but he was not born yesterday. So he saw it as his job to protect her from pushy guys, like this Chuck Bartowski. At least that was what he kept telling himself. However there was another, deeper reason for his suspicious thinking: he did not want to lose his best friend to a man who clearly did not deserve her.

* * *

He clenched his fists at his sides and smiled scornfully. Someone was really going to get it now! One funny look from anyone, and there would be hell to pay. Though he did prefer it to be either Scooter or that damn Bartowski.

_'You have to be frakking kidding me!'_ He grunted with disgust when he checked his reflection in the restaurant's window once more. Dressed in a red and white checkered shirt, onyx colored lederhosen with suspenders, white slouch socks and black haferl shoes, he looked every bit the jester. What made it even worse was that onyx colored Bavarian hat with a red feather.

His eyes narrowed to angry slits when he wondered if the CIA nerd had known about this ridiculous attire and if that was why he had tranqed Scooter. Although his supervisor had given him ample reason to shoot him.

He glanced over his shoulder at his supervisor and pondered over the thought if someone would actually miss him if he disappeared all of a sudden. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he gave it a lot more thought. Now that was a pleasant idea.

"Mr. Casey," Scooter interrupted his daydreaming.

Immediate his anger and annoyance returned and he snarled, causing the supervisor to take a step back quickly: "What?"

"As interesting as your thoughts might be, Mr. Casey, there is work to be done around here. Now I want you to go outside and clean up the tables," Scooter instructed him after a glance at his watch.

Going outside in this outfit was the very last thing he wanted to do. How was he supposed to demand respect dressed like this? What if the asset or the moron saw him?

"Now, Mr. Casey."

He glared furiously at the obnoxious man and went outside. _'Who will miss you?'_

* * *

"Thanks, buddy," he said in a soft voice to an empty room when he saw that Morgan had packed some of his favorite clothes.

It was not a real date, just a simple dinner before he would take her to the Buy More. He had texted Casey earlier to set up the meet with the good doctor to test Sam and he assumed that the NSA agent would come through.

Dinner first, so he thought that it would not hurt to put a little effort into his appearance. If anything, it would help sell the cover.

"Chuck, you home?" He heard his sister call from the living room.

"In here!" He called back while he tried to make up his mind on what shirt to wear."

"Hey," Ellie greeted him happily when she entered his temporary room.

"Hi?" He grinned.

Just like he had expected her gaze immediately trailed to the suitcase and clothes on the bed.

"What do you think of this shirt?" He asked insecurely.

Her eyes narrowed a little and she looked at him curiously.

"Before you say anything," he began, knowing he had to contain her enthusiasm. "Yes, it is a date, and yes, it is with Sam."

A weird sound slipped out. Suppressed excitement contorted her face. His big sister was so very predictable. He chuckled.

"So... you do like her?" She managed to ask.

"No, I hate her. That's why I'm going to wine and dine her, then chop her up in little pieces and dump her off the coast near Marina del Rey," he paused intentionally to gauge her reaction, only to grin when her face fell in confusion. "Com'on, sis, you know me. I won't date someone I don't like."

"That's the problem, little brother. You've been gone from my life for so long, I feel like I don't really know you anymore... And you dated Jill."

He blinked a few times in order to not roll his eyes. The dreaded topic had finally been broached. He was well aware that Jill was in first place on Ellie's list of hated people, which was an incredibly short list.

"Dated being the operative word," he said. "Tonight I'm going out with Sam," he added in an attempt to divert the conversation.

It sorted the desired result. Flashing him another happy grin, she sifted through his clothes and put an outfit together.

"Nothing fancy, right?" She made sure.

"Right," he nodded.

* * *

"Sam?" He managed to squeeze out in a breath.

The look on Chuck's face was absolutely priceless and definitely worth the effort and the money. After their shifts at the Buy More had ended she had dragged a moody Bryce to the mall to buy something decent to wear. His grumpy behavior had been surprising as he had been pushing her to come to the mall with him for the longest time.

With little help from her best friend, she had settled on skintight black jeans, a formfitting black t-shirt,and a black pull-over with a pale pink floral design. Only after that, Bryce had come around and had dragged her off to a shoe store.

As long as she didn't have to run in these things, she was certain she could pull off wearing high heeled boots. All she had to do was keep her balance and stay upright, which had already been a lot harder than she had anticipated moving around the apartment. It was going to be an interesting night, and she only hoped she would not pull a typical 'clumsy Sam'-act.

Though Bryce had tried to change her mind, she still had said no to dying her hair and to the use of make-up. He had gone back to his disgruntled child behavior after that, not understanding that this already was a big deal for her and that she was taking baby steps to get comfortable.

Now her date simply stood there with a bouquet of assorted flowers in his hand, gawking at her with his mouth agape. She fought of the need to giggle at his rather sheepish reaction. Quite suddenly he shook his head, only to do another double take.

He closed his mouth, swallowed noticeable a few times and seemed to remember that he had brought her flowers as he held them out to her awkwardly.

"Thank you," she said shyly after accepting the bouquet. "Bryce? Can you put these on water, please?" She asked in a sweet voice when he appeared at her side.

"Sure," Bryce muttered chagrined and took the flowers from her. "Have fun. Don't come home late, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Which isn't much," she said in a spur of self-confidence, or giddiness. She was not sure about that herself.

Bryce simply sighed while Chuck was grinning radiantly.

"But I'll remember and be a good girl..., dad," she smirked to which Bryce reacted with another sigh.

"Ready to go?" Chuck asked, clearly having found his voice back.

"Hmm-mmm," she answered after she grabbed her purse and jacket and stepped out of the apartment.


	7. Chapter 7: Versus the Lost Hope

**A/N:** Guess I got in the zone with writing this chapter and finished it a whole lot sooner than I had expected, though I did have to borrow a few lines from the first two episodes. As has become custom by now: a huge, huge thanks to the readers, the followers and the reviewers. Publishing a story can be daunting, but it fuels my inspiration and drive to write to see how much traffic this story has been getting.

JustMyLuckiness: Who knows?

Joe-El: Thank you once more for pointing out a gross oversight on my part. I have tried to correct it in this chapter, and I hope I succeeded.

fezzywhigg & tshdow: Glad you're liking/enjoying it.

As always, reviews are most welcome and very much appreciated... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'Chuck'.

* * *

Though it was nothing more than a simple cover date, the initial awkwardness between them seemed to evaporate as dinner went on, and he even got her to laugh a few times. Each time it had caused his heart rate to go up a little and the room temperature to rise a little as well. Conversation had become a lot easier now that he knew to keep it at general topics. As long as he kept things shallow, and did not go digging into her more private life, things would be just fine.

It did not mean that he was not curious about her, but the choice was left to her. Whatever she wanted to share with him, he would take it but he was not going to pressure her and with that ruin the fun part of the evening.

"I know you work as an analyst slash agent for the CIA, that you live in Bakersfield," she began hesitantly as if to work up the courage. "That you're assigned to protect me, your cover job is a Nerd Herder, and you have to pretend to be my boyfriend."

He was not sure if it was all that smart that she was giving a summary in such a public place, but he did not stop her from doing so either, sensing that she was working towards asking him something more personal.

"Back in Bakersfield... Is there someone waiting for you?"

A slight smile began to play on his lips: "Like a real girlfriend, you mean?"

"Or boyfriend, I won't judge."

He burst into merry laughter. His best friend Morgan was waiting for him to return to Bakersfield, but explaining their friendship would require a lot of time, something they did not really have tonight.

"Uh, yeah... Yeah, actually... Well, back in college, there was someone," he began, only to kick himself mentally.

Did he really want to run her off with lengthy stories about Jill and him? He kept quiet for a short moment, trying to gather his thoughts before continuing: "Actually that's all over with now, and her restraining orders are pretty specific."

So maybe he should have taken another moment, waited with delivering the punch line until she had swallowed the sip of her drink she had just taken, because now he was on the receiving end of a spit take.

"Sorry," she uttered between a cough and a laugh.

"Entirely my fault," he remarked. "So... Anything I got, I most definitely deserved," he added with a big grin while he made a big show out of cleaning up with his napkin.

It paid off when he heard the laugh he had hoped to draw out.

"I like you, Chuck," she blurted out.

He immediately looked up at her face and was met by an expression that told him that she could not believe it herself that she had just said that. For some reason he did not want to acknowledge, he grinned from ear-to-ear.

* * *

"Here we are on our date at the Buy More. Is this all part of a plan or a chance for us to clock in some overtime?" She queried with a wry smile.

"We have a plan... There's a doctor coming to see you, Sam. He worked on the neural integration of the Intersect, and he's coming to examine you," he divulged.

She simply nodded.

"The doctor is our best shot at helping you... It's what you want, right? To get the secrets out of your head? To be rid of the Intersect and get your old life back?"

"Yeah... Yeah, of course."

He lead her to the home theater room and checked it for a final time before he pointed at the couch.

"I've rewired the home theater room for this test," he explained to her after she sat down and faced the TV-screen. "When the images start, just say what they are ." he said, holding out a headset to her.

"That's it?" She asked, surprised by the simplicity of the test.

At that moment, Casey stuck his head in: "The doctor's here."

"When do I get to meet him?"

"You don't," Chuck answered with a strict voice. "It's important that he doesn't see you... You're too valuable."

"Thanks," she muttered. "That's... reassuring."

"It'll be fine, Sam. It's to determine your level of retention," his voice had taken a reassuring tone but it did not mask the faint tremble in it.

She furrowed her eyebrows and looked at him inquisitively. Was he nervous? Well, she was but that made sense. But why was he?

* * *

Upon first sight of doctor Zarnow, whom he only knew by name, and without warning upfront, he felt that too familiar tingle, then the tug at the back of his mind, followed by a blindingly excruciating pain in his head. He doubled over, pressing his hands against the temples and grinding his teeth in a successful attempt not to cry out in pain. Dinner decided to come up instead of staying down but he managed to keep it in.

It was a side-effect of an Intersect malfunction, one if he had known about beforehand, he would not have agreed to have the computer in his mind suppressed. He had agreed to recruitment into Project Omaha by the CIA because he was extremely suited for it, but as the pain slowly ebbed away, he realized once more that he might not have been any more than an expendable lab rat.

He stood up straight once the pain had been reduced to manageable and was met by suspicious looks from his gruff partner and doctor Zarnow.

"Is he the Intersect?" Doctor Zarnow asked the NSA agent with great interest while he pointed at him.  
Casey snorted with obvious contempt: "Yeah, right. Do you really think the government would sink millions into this project to have it end up in the head of a glorified desk jockey?"

He looked at the doctor again. There was something off about the man, and since he triggered a flash, albeit in failure, it could only mean one of two things. Doctor Zarnow was either good or bad, and he could not afford to bank on good.

"No. No. Of course not," the doctor agreed with a sly smile.

He needed to stall this examination and come up with a new plan, because he was not going to put Sam in jeopardy. Could he trust his disinclined partner? Thus far Casey had done very little to earn his trust and more to make his presence miserable. However if he had to work with the bearish man, maybe it was up to him to make the first gesture of trust.

Unexpectedly an idea popped into his head: "Casey, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Make it fast," the agent grumbled.

* * *

He listened as patiently as possible while that idiot told him about his suspicions of Zarnow, and he wondered where it came from. Earlier he had read the files on Zarnow and Bartowski, with the latter's heavily redacted.

"Urgh!" He growled beyond annoyed. "You and I are going to have a serious talk real soon, moron."

"Fine, anytime you want," the CIA agent countered slightly vexed. "But right now I need your help."

"How do I know I can trust a Completely Incompetent Ass?" He groused.

"You don't, but you will have to. If Zarnow is dirty and we knew, do you really want to go down as the agent who pooched it?"

The other agent had a point there. The doctor was a little too slick, too curious about Patient X's identity. Still there was no reason for him to trust Bartowski either.

"Who says you're not setting me up to take a fall?"

"What would I have to gain by that? We're both responsible for Sa-, the asset. So if you go down, I go down too."

Again the idiot had a valid point. He nodded in approval: "Okay, what do you need me to do?"

"I want him to think I'm Patient X."

"You?" He scoffed. "You couldn't have thought of that five minutes sooner? Before I told him you weren't. Nice going, Bartowski."

"You're NSA. I'm CIA. Undoubtedly you saw my file and I know a lot's been blacked out, for good reason, so you simply didn't know," Bartowski explained. "We want him to think that I'm the Intersect. He's already suspicious of me, so... Can you deal with him alone? While I disappear from sight shortly before and during the test?"

He had to admit to himself that the CIA-nerd had thought it through so far. Plus it would save him from having to spend more time with the other agent than was really necessary. Also, Bleeding Heart could be lying to him, setting him up for the fall to gain the sole control over the asset and with that greatly discrediting the NSA. But what if the runt was right? He had to take a chance.

"Sure... Anything else?" He gave in.

"Give me a few minutes to install a voice modulator?"

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"The plan won't work if the good doctor knows the gender of the Intersect," the other agent said with a hint of sarcasm to his voice.

"Smart," he admitted, though the sarcasm had his temper rise a little. "For the record, Bartowski, if you screw me over, I will hunt you down and torture you until you beg me to put you out of your misery, then I'll torture you some more and leave you to die."

The nervous swallow and the look on the CIA agent's face told him that he knew that it had no been an idle threat and that he would have every intention to follow through if it had been indeed a setup.

"Last chance to back out," he reminded him in a low growl.

Bartowski simply shook his head and went to search the aisles of the Buy More for what he needed.

* * *

"After the tone, the test will begin," Doctor Zarnow instructed his patient before he pressed enter to start the testing sequence.

A static voice came over the speakers:

"Uh, cat...

... Uh, rhinoceros...

... Coat hanger...

... Palace...

... Really ugly guy in the forest. Cardinal One is the top Moscow spy in the White House."

He listened as the asset rattled off the secrets that were in her head, keeping a close eye on the doctor. The asset went on and on, and doctor Zarnow grew more and more excited by the minute.

"Well, that's just a picture of an armadillo."

"Your patient is phenomenal," the doctor stated impressed. "We never imagined this happening again."

"What didn't you imagine?" He asked gruffly.

"One person seeing all the Intersect images. It's only been done once before. This is not the same Patient X, is it?" Doctor Zarnow inquired.

_'Bartowski!'_ He snarled in thoughts. _'That scheming snake!'_ He took a minute to cool off and remembered the plan: "Could very well be. We don't know who the first Patient X was, so it's possible."

The doctor nodded in understanding. The door to the home theater room opened and the bane of his current assignment walked out leisurely. He watched closely as Zarnow smiled cunningly. The CIA operative sent them a slow smile on his way over to them.

"So... Can you remove the secrets, doctor?" Agent Bartowski asked innocently.

"Yes," the doctor answered eagerly. "I think I can."

* * *

He could only hope that his impromptu plan had worked. That the doctor indeed suspected him to be Patient X and thus would come after him if his gut feeling, sparked by the incomplete flash, was right. His partner has not been able to tell him much other than that doctor Zarnow had been impressed by the retention level and had thought he would be able to remove the secrets.

He parked the car on the side of the street nearest to the entrance to the apartment complex and stopped the car's engine.

"So did I pass the test?" She asked hopeful, turning a little to face him.

"You did great," he answered while he pulled the key from the ignition.

"And this doctor guy... He can fix me or?" She tapped against the side of her head.

"He's hopeful," he nodded, hopping out of the car in an attempt to be the ever gentleman and pulled the car door open for her.

She got out, gave him a certain look and started in the direction of the complex.

He did not really know her and did not pretend to either, but that look had told him that there was something on her mind. It had been the same as the one she had given him over dinner before she had asked him about a girlfriend.

"Talk to me, Sam."

"If this whole examination thing, if it works out, then I guess, we're through, huh?" She wanted to know.

As much as it pained him to say it aloud, he had to: "Yes."

* * *

She had been so utterly stupid to think differently. How could she have been so foolish as to assume that four words could and would change the true nature of their relationship?

He was a CIA operative, playing his part in the scheme to protect her from any and all evildoers, and she was simply the asset.

It did not mean that she did not feel any less of an idiot. Had she honestly thought that the click was there, that once the Intersect was out he would stick around to pursue something real?

All that time, money and effort, it all seemed such a waste now. She wondered why he even bothered walking her to her door. _'Because it's his job,'_ her mind reminded her subtly. She was only a job.

"Well, good night," he told her with a faint smile.

"Good night," she muttered before she entered the apartment and locked the door behind her.

A yawn escaped her. She really need to get some sleep so her mind could rest up and stop playing tricks on her. The lack of sleep made her sloppy and incautious, and with that it made her vulnerable. She hated the idea of being vulnerable; she was not some damsel in distress in need of a knight in shining armor! Not even if that knight had striking resemblance to one Chuck Bartowski.  
Luckily Bryce was nowhere in sight, which was a very good thin in her book because she was not up to dealing with his meddlesome ways right now. At least she would have until breakfast before she would be bombarded with questions on things that were none of his business.

Though she was convinced that sleep would elude her once more, she quietly made her way to her room and got ready to turn in for the night. A sad sigh passed her lips when she looked at the clothes she had worn tonight as she put them away.

She crawled into bed and made herself comfortable, only to find her mind wandering all over the place again. She groaned deeply annoyed and pulled the pillow over her head roughly. This really had to stop!

* * *

His eyes narrowed when he caught sight of someone he thought he recognized. He pulled back into an aisle and studied his target. Granted the person had aged but the tall, lanky build and the facial features were pretty much a dead giveaway. Chuck Bartowski, the thorn in his side nearly a decade ago, the young upstart with his scholarship to Stanford, was dressed in the standard outfit of the Nerd Herd.

A malicious smirk appeared on his face; he had always known that the kid was going nowhere, and it pleased him to see that he had been right about Bartowski all along. It just made his day to come back after his day off and see himself proven right.

"Are you spying on your co-workers again, Tang?" Big Mike asked when he nearly bumped into him.

"Just surprised that you rehired Bartowski, sir," he answered.

"Rehired?" Big Mike seemed confused. "He worked here before?"

He nodded slowly: "A few summers ago... Oh right, that was the summer when you left us for a stint at corporate."

Big Mike shuddered noticeably: "Worst summer of my life. They actually wanted me to do stuff... What's the point of having employees if you've got to do all the work yourself?"

It had been a good summer for him, with a store manager who had similar ideas about the store's work policies, only to turn bad once upper management had demoted Big Mike back to store manager of the Burbank Buy More and had promoted the new one to corporate. After that, everything had returned to the old, as if nothing ever changed. It had been very disappointing.

"But why didn't he say so?"

"Probably because he didn't want to admit he's a total loser," he offered with a sneer.

* * *

He rubbed the center of his forehead with his index and middle finger, willing the growing headache away, and heaved a tired sigh. Of course everything had to go sideways again and he had barely gotten any sleep before he had been called awake by Director Graham with the order to go to a crime scene, where someone had blown up Zarnow's car along with the doctor.

Now he was racking his brain as to who could have been responsible for the bombing. Casey, his reluctant partner who found joy in tormenting him, seemed to be the most likely suspect, but he was inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. Especially since the use of a NSA-incinerator and the lack of a body, or at least parts, had him thinking of another less obvious but just as likely scenario.

What if the good doctor had staged it? He had not been in the Intersect for nothing. It came as a relief to know that if that was the case, doctor Zarnow could come after him, and not Sam. She was still at risk, if Casey was the culprit. He let out a soft groan.

Either way, without doctor Zarnow, removing the Intersect from Sam's mind had become an impossibility again, if it had been possible at all. Still hope had been enough. He had to tell her the news, but was quite unsure how to since she appeared intent on giving him the cold shoulder and those glacial glares she cast at him were not doing much for his confidence either.

He knew that it was entirely his own fault; he could have let her down a lot easier and gentler than he had done last night. She entered his line of sight and he jogged up to her. Just like last night, it had to be done quick and without a second thought: "Sam, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Is something wrong?"

"The doctor from last night, he was killed in an explosion soon after he left us."

"Wha-What?" She looked completely devastated; her hopes of being rid of the Intersect had just quite literally gone up in smoke.


	8. Chapter 8: Versus the Mini Quiches

**A/N**: Because of some dental problems, which cost me 3 days to recover from, I have to admit that I'm relieved that I got this chapter done by my own set deadline. Just one more chapter to 'butcher' in the "Helicopter"-arc before really starting on Sam's slow but steady transition to Sarah Walker. So far all I did was set up the chessboard with the pieces.

Again: a huge thank you to all the readers, the followers and the reviewers!

Shutupnkissme313: The faulty suppression will come back to haunt Chuck from time to time, especially if I choose to be evil.

JustMyLuckiness: Thank you.

fezzywhigg: Slowly working towards their interaction ;)

Dragon X Avalon: Thank you, and I'll try.

As always, reviews are most welcome and very much appreciated... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'Chuck'.

* * *

It felt like someone had just pulled the rug from under her. The world came crashing down around her.

"I'm really sorry, Sam," Chuck said in a sincere voice.

How could he be sorry? For all she knew he had been the one responsible for the bombing. Or Casey. Either one of them could be the killer, and she could be next. Nevertheless the worst part was that the Intersect, the bane of her existence at present time, was not coming out soon, if at all. She had cherished hope that this whole ordeal, this whole turning her life upside down would have been over soon.

Torn between anger, sadness and disappointment, she took a few deep breaths, and schooled her face to a neutral expression. Her shift at the Buy More had only just started, and she would be damned if she left early. Her sense of duty dictated it.

For a second she let her emotions resurface, and sent him an icy glare that should tell him to stay the hell away from her the rest of the day. He gave her a single nod in response, and went to help a customer with a broken video camera.

* * *

He pulled his cell phone from his shirt pocket and searched through the phone book. This had gone long enough, and now it was time to intervene. Remembering **, ** how he had felt after the first upload, how little he had slept and how delirious he had become, he pushed the dial button.

"Chuck! My main man, what's up? What's cooking?" Morgan chirped on the other end of the line.

"Hey, Morgan," he smirked at his friend's enthusiasm.

"How are things down south?"

"Taking longer that I had expected," he paused for a moment to formulate his request. "Buddy, I need you to do me a favor."

"Anything, Chuck. Just name it, you got it."

"You're bored, aren't you, buddy?"

"Out of my mind... Everyone around here is so damn serious all the time. All work and no play makes Morgan a dull boy. So what can I do for you?"

"I need you to make a call to the Burbank Buy More and order an offsite install."

"Dude, you've only worked there for a day, and you're playing hooky... already?"

He sighed slightly annoyed, knowing that Morgan was only teasing him: "I wouldn't be asking you to do this if it wasn't important."

Morgan laughed amused: "I know... Just messing with you."

"Use a hidden number. Order the install and ask for Sam," he instructed his friend.

"Install... Sam... Got it. Just gimme a few minutes."

"Thanks, buddy."

"Anything else?"

"Wanna come down for the weekend and hang out at the arcades?"

"Hell yes! I'll see you in a couple!"

"Don't forget to make the call!" He reminded his friend, hopefully just in time when he got the disconnected sound, knowing how Morgan's mind worked when he got excited.

He needed to get Sam out of here; she looked ready to crash but was simply too stubborn to call it quits for the day, so he decided that she needed protecting from herself. If she went down out cold just like that, there would no doubt be a lot of questions and quite possibly another visit to the hospital. The 'offsite install' would give him the perfect opportunity to take her home and watch over her. He pondered if he should tell his NSA colleague and decided against it. The clues indicated that Casey was not the bomber, but he could not afford to be wrong about it.

"Sam!" Big Mike bellowed for the third morning in a row. "Offsite install! One-four-two, Euclid. Take Bartowski!"

This was even better than he had hoped for. At least now he did not have to trick her into letting him tag along, though the glacial look on her face told him there was nothing to gloat about. It was Big Mike's order, and that was it.

* * *

"So... Sam?" She inquired curiously, easily sidestepping her little brother who was turning out to be more of a nuisance than a help in the kitchen.

"What about her?" He countered innocently while he stole a piece of bread.

"Chuck!" She chastised him as she slapped at his hand. "You're going to ruin your appetite."

Not all too uncommon, she had decided to have a spontaneous dinner party and had enlisted her brother to help her out. Though so far he had gotten more in the way than anything else, but with Devon out on his bicycle, it gave her the perfect chance to hear Chuck out before the guests would arrive.

"Sorry, mom," he quipped with a sheepish grin.

"Just curious about where things stand with you two," she elaborated.

He heaved an exasperated sigh: "We're taking things slow?"

She nodded slowly: "Good... So... Is she your girlfriend now?"

"Girlfriend?" He coughed. "Does it really have to have a name already?"

Her answer was a simple shrug of her shoulders before she slapped at his hand again.

"I guess," he conceded.

She clasped her hands together and looked at him with a huge grin on her face.

"Sis, can you stop it already?"

"Stop what?" She played the innocence card, finding it hard to control her rapidly increasing excitement.

Her little brother had a new girlfriend, one she definitely approved of, and not that female dog equivalent Jill Roberts. If she had been paying attention to Chuck, she could have seen the glint of mischief appear in his eyes.

"I know you, Ellie. If it were up to you, we'd have had the bed ceremony already," he smirked.

"That's... That's just... gross," she nearly gagged, hitting him on the back of the head.

"Ow!"

It had been his intention, to get her off their backs, she realized all of a sudden and she smacked him on the back of the head again for good measure.

"Sis, cut it out!" He laughed warmly, dodging another hit.

* * *

It had been a few years since he had spent so much time in the kitchen, even cooking had always been his secret favorite pastime between missions. He could only hope that the cupcakes would turn out just as well as the mini quiches. Both, of course, were laced with micro bots for easy tracking. One could never know when that would come in handy.

It had been very nice of the Bartowski sister to invite him over for the small dinner party tonight when he had run into her this morning. So after ending his shift at the Wienerlicious early, most of the time the place was deserted, he had gone over to the Buy More to get all he needed, only to learn that the asset and the moron had left hours earlier on an offsite install call and had yet to return.

After racing down to the apartment complex, he had found the obnoxious agent sitting near the fountain with a bearded imp, talking about sandwiches and deserted islands. He had grabbed the tall idiot by the upper arm and had pulled him aside.

With teeth bared in a dark growl, he had offered to rearrange his partner's face if Bartowski did not tell him what the hell was going on and why he had not been informed of this plan.

Bleeding Heart had told him that the asset had looked extremely close to crashing and to avoid any unnecessary attention and questions, he had quickly devised a plan to get her out of there. So he had come up with the fake offsite install.

He had to give it to the kid; Bartowski was pretty damn smart, for an idiot.

The asset had been past exhaustion, and had even passed out on the drive to the complex, so the moron had carried her into her apartment and had put her to bed. He had been reading up on status reports until his friend Morgan had shown up.

Still, it did not sit well with him that numbnuts had not informed him of this plan at all. Did Bartowski really think he was the one who killed Dr. Zarnow? Was that why?

Most of his short shift he had been trying to make sense of the crime. There were a few things that did not add up, but his only suspect remained Agent Bartowski, with means and motive present.

The CIA-nerd was known for his reluctance to kill, and he certainly was not a stone cold killer like him. Unless. The whole kindness act was exactly that, an act, a ruse to have his targets lower their guard. If that were so, it meant that Bartowski was far more dangerous than he had anticipated on.

It also meant that he would have to grab the asset at the earliest convenience without making a scene and secure her by dropping her in a bunker at an undisclosed location. However, he would have to cause a rift between the asset and the rival agent first.

A wry smile formed on his face when he checked his cell phone and saw that General Beckman had come through once more. She had supplied him with a trigger name and some information on the event. As he stood repeating the name to memorize it, the timer of the oven alerted him that the cupcakes were done.

* * *

"Sam? Sammie, wake up, hun?" Someone sounding suspiciously like Bryce shook her by the shoulder.

"Bryce?" She mumbled in a sleepy whine to verify the intruder's identity.

"Uh huh," he confirmed. "Sleeping on the job, Sam? Really, I had never ever expected that of you," he added teasingly.

She was utterly confused; the last thing she remembered was getting in Chuck's car. Her heart began to pound wildly in her chest. What had happened? Had he drugged her? Her eyes flew open and she sat up with a start, wide awake now.

A quick glance down told her that she was still in her Nerd Herd getup, minus her black trainers. Relief settled in and she felt herself relax considerably.

"Com'on, Sunshine, get up and get changed. We've been invited for dinner."

"Ellie?"

"Who else?" He chuckled. "Oh, I ran into our neighbor John. He wanted to ask you something before going over. So you might want to do that first, after you've become presentable of course," he added with a wink.

"Of course," she sighed.

She still felt exhausted and if it were up to her she would rather change into her PJs instead. Which would be a sure way to have Ellie bust down her door, drag her out of bed, and to the dinner table. A deep groan of annoyance rose from her chest.

She was not sure if she wanted to face her fake boyfriend in Smurfette pajamas, so she got up and wandered into her closet. Not that she was really going to bother changing into something special, just something simple, since it meant nothing anyway.

About ten minutes later she stood outside Casey's apartment waiting for the gruff NSA agent to open the door.

* * *

"Come in, Sam," he said in a friendly manner which had her look curiously at him. "Appearances," he added in a soft grunt, taking a step back so she could enter and he could close the door.

She nodded in understanding: "Bryce said that you wanted to ask me something?"

Now it was his turn to nod: "Right... I take it that Agent Bartowski told you about doctor Zarnow's unfortunate accident."

"He did."

"Tell me, Sam, what do you really know about Chuck, huh?" He began his attempt to wreck the bond between the asset and that insufferable Bartowski. "Think. He's CIA, worked with Zondra. She was rogue. Maybe he is too? He found you in L.A.-"

"Because Devon told him Ellie took me to Westside Medical," she interjected.

"But he couldn't grab you because there were bystanders. So he had to wait his chance. Dr. Zarnow screwed that up. He could pull those secrets out of your head, then he'd lose the Intersect, so he had to act fast. Take Zarnow out of the equation, then the rest to clean up."

"What? Why?"

"Eliminating everyone who's a threat... I did some digging on our friend and learned a few interesting things. Three years ago, Bartowski infiltrated a ring of assassins under the alias Étienne Toussaint."

He waited patiently, knowing that the alias had triggered a flash.

"Tsugh!" She groaned, grabbing her head. "He killed them all," she gasped in horror as she came out of the flash completely.

"My point exactly," he agreed with a faked sympathetic smile.

* * *

"Stop the presses!" A small, bearded man exclaimed when she entered the Bartowski residence. "Who is that?"

"Morgan," Chuck sighed with an eye roll. "That's Sam, and Bryce, and John. Please, just ignore uncle Morgan. He's had one too many Red Bull today."

She smiled politely and shook Morgan's hand. The man seemed friendly enough, albeit a bit weird.

Ellie came out of the kitchen to give her a hug, though she suspected that the older Bartowski was also checking up on her medical condition.

"Now that we're all here, let's eat," Devon concluded while he sat down at the dinner table.

"Much help you were," Ellie laughed, bumping shoulders with her brother. "If I hadn't sent you out of the kitchen, there would have been nothing left to eat."

She swallowed nervously; Chuck had been in the kitchen. She glanced at Casey, who sat looking at her with a look of interest on his face.

"I was only a bit peckish," Chuck offered in his defense, pulling out the chair for her.

There was a lot of banter back and forth as everyone took a seat, but she had a hard time keeping up with it and became the unintentional target of a quip or two in the meantime. Her mind wandered. What if Casey was right? What if Chuck was cleaning the operation? Would her pretend boyfriend really be so cold as to kill each and every one of them?

She found that incredibly hard to believe. It seemed out of character. However neither agent had really done anything to deserve her trust. Casey was all grunts and snarls with a penchant for violence. And Chuck, he had been pretty straightforward with her from the get go. Yet his actions this morning were questionable, combined with what she had learned about him, it fed the seed of doubt growing in her mind.

"Com'on, guys, dig in. I haven't spent all that time in the kitchen to have you stare at it," Ellie encouraged her family and friends, bringing her back to the here and now. "John, those mini quiches look yummy," Ellie complimented their neighbor. "You have to give me the recipe."

Casey nodded in acknowledgement.

"Stop!" She exclaimed, suddenly feeling she had no time to lose.

Almost everyone looked at her in surprise, except for the two government agents who were looking at her with interest.

"We, uh, we didn't do a toast yet," she said while her mind went into overdrive to come up with a way to stall and a plan that did not involve a massacre. "Which... I'll do right now. Uh, so I'd like to propose a toast," she stated, raising her glass and waiting for the others to join her. "To our hostess, Ellie... And to a meal that looks so great... And Devon, who is awesome."

"You said it," Devon chimed in.

"And Chuck, for, uh, looking after me today... And to John and his mini quiches, which are equally as great... And to Morgan, I don't know you but it would be impolite not to mention you."

"Don't mention it," Morgan smirked.

"What about me, Sam?" Bryce asked with a faux pout.

"And to Bryce, for being my best friend and roommate," she finished her toast, only to discover that she had indeed stalled dinner but still lacked a plan.

"Thank you, kind lady," Bryce smiled.

* * *

The silent interaction between Sam and Casey did not go unnoticed to him, and where he had given his colleague the benefit of the doubt, Casey had not shown him the same courtesy. Sam looked like she was about to jump up, toss the table upside down and bolt, so whatever the bearish agent had told her was doing its job.

He got to his feet, went over to her and whispered in her ear: "Got a sec?"

She nearly jumped out of her chair startled and almost knocked over her glass of wine, turning to look at him with eyes big with fear. He glanced at the NSA agent and shook his head tiredly.

"Can't it wait?" She asked in an unsteady voice before she nodded at the table. "Dinner."

"The food can wait," he answered in a stern tone, done with playing games.

He heard her take a deep, shaky breath. It earned his neighbor a dark look. Casey might have had the upper hand earlier, but now it was time to set the record straight.

"Now, Sam," he ordered before he made his way to the guest room.

She took her time following him and he began to grow impatient; if he had to, he would barge back out and drag her with him. He was about to move from words to actions when she entered the room. She looked shaken to the core and started to fidget immediately.

"What did he tell you?" He asked with a deep sigh, not wanting to waste any more time.

"That you killed doctor Zarnow and poisoned a group of men."

At least she had the decency to give a straight answer, though she avoided any eye contact.

"They're blaming me for Zarnow now? And you believe Casey over me?" He queried, disbelief etching deeper into his voice than he had wanted.

"Tell me about that group of men?" She asked slowly.

"They were members of the Dark Brotherhood, a group of assassins hired to kill Agent Carmichael after he foiled their plans, and I did not kill them. I infiltrated their little band and ground sleeping pills through their food... They've all been captured and sent to CIA black sites... I'm not Casey, Sam. I'm not some skin covered robot with a kill order. I don't kill for the kill, only when I'm left absolutely no other choice, as the last resort," he stated with vehement conviction. "If Casey really didn't kill Zarnow, then it is what I thought... I gotta go," he said as he grabbed his cell phone and his keys, and took off.

"Chuck, wait!"

He turned back to her, determination written all over his face: "You stay inside," he ordered while he pointed at her. "Do what I say."

All he could do was hope that Zarnow would put his plan in motion soon; he had been playing bait long enough for the bad doctor to be interested in the secrets in his head. He stormed out of the apartment**, ** courtyard, and suddenly felt a sting in his neck. The world faded out.


	9. Chapter 9: Versus the Complications

**A/N**: Two days ahead of schedule, which has become quite common for me to do by now, a new chapter. A warm welcome to the new readers and followers and thank you to those who have favorited this story. Also thank you to the reviewers.

However there is something I'd like to mention beforehand, as this is not the first story I have written: I know my writing style and to prevent the chapters going on and on, I have put some restrictions on it. Like a word limit, which I have set between 3,000 and 4,000 words, because I'd never get any chapter finished if I didn't. This means that I might cut corners, sometimes unintentionally because of an oversight and sometimes simply because I will come to back to it in a later chapter.

Understanding perfectly that one cannot please all the readers, I do want to ask that if you have issues with this story and put it into a review, that you will keep it constructive. Simply tearing into it doesn't really do wonders for any writer's spirit.

fezzywhigg: Thanks.

Molotov: You pointed out a few smaller things that might apparently not be all too clear for the reader, like Chuck's CIA status, so thanks for that. I will deal with those issues if and when I see fit.

pizza: Happy to hear you think it's awesome, and, indeed, that was one of the reasons why I did pick Zondra. Amy was a little too ditzy for my taste (even if she was the traitor after all) and Carina has a different role to play. And you're spot on with the version of Chuck, with smidges of earlier seasons Chuck added to it, I took as the starting point.

As always, reviews are most welcome and very much appreciated... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'Chuck'.

* * *

Realizing that the shit was about to hit the proverbial fan, he jumped to his feet and muttered an apology. He raced after his CIA colleague, with the asset and the bearded imp close behind.

He reached the gate of the apartment complex just in time to see two unfamiliar men, Zarnow's henchmen no doubt, push an unconscious Bartowski in the backseat of a black sedan. The man standing at the open door on the driver's side, he did recognize: Doctor Zarnow.

"Good to see you again, Agent Casey," the man said smugly.

"Gorramit, the idiot was right," he admitted with a low grumble before he felt a sharp sting in his left shoulder.

"Sir," the bearded imp was right at his side to support him when his knees began to buckle and his mind began to spin.

"Damn tranq dart," he growled groggily. "Sam, get the car!"

There was no reaction.

"Sam!" He barked angrily, turning slightly to see she was coming out of a flash. "The car!"

"I know his secrets... He-He's been feeding American science to North Korea for years," she summarized.

He grunted annoyed; he should and could have known. If Bartowski was the first, though be it unofficial and unconfirmed, Intersect. Something he had started to suspect yesterday after the idiot's sudden headache upon seeing Zarnow, which could have been a flash. Then it would make sense that the asset would do so too. The strong similarity between headache and flash strengthened his suspicions about the CIA-nerd.

"That's great," he growled. "Now stop wasting time... And get the car before we lose them."

* * *

Odd. His eyes narrowed to slits in wonder when he saw the four take off after muttered apologies. There was definitely something weird going on.

He looked at their hostess, who answered with a single shrug of her shoulders, like it was no surprise to her to have a dinner party end like this.

"What did you say your brother does for a living?" He asked.

"He worked for a software company. Not sure why he took a job at the Buy More, but I won't complain if it means I get to see him more," she answered slowly before taking another bite of a mini quiche.

She knew more, he was convinced of it, but without any shred of evidence there was no way for him to push for answers. He would have to take matters into his own hands the next best opportunity, and find out what the hell was going on.

* * *

A deep snort of contempt and disagreement escaped her while she watched out the window after being ordered into the backseat. Since she felt responsible for this situation, she had insisted on coming along and had threatened to take the Nerd Herder Three to follow if not allowed. With Chuck's friend at the wheel and Casey in the passenger's seat, she had time and space to reflect.

She felt terrible, and it was not just because of the flash. If she had given Chuck the benefit of the doubt, had not listened to Casey, and had continued to try and trust Chuck, maybe he would not have been taken by the traitor Zarnow.

That little bit of knowledge made it even worse; she had put a nearly blind faith in someone who had been betraying his country by selling science secrets to an enemy nation for who knows how long.

"Damn Bartowski," Casey grumbled in his seat. "Keep your distance, Grimes. About thirty feet. Much closer, and you increase the chance to get made. Too far, and you increase the chance to lose the target... Don't they teach you anything at the Academy?"

"The Academy?" Chuck's friend clearly baited Casey.

"Or whatever you call it in the CIA?"

"I'm CIA?" Grimes exclaimed with faux surprise.

"Urgh!" Casey grumbled.

It brought a faint smile to her face.

"I never went to Langley, you see. They recruited Chuck and I came with the package," Morgan explained.

She could not entirely make out what Casey was growling under his breath, but from what she did understand, it did not bode well for Chuck and Casey. Choosing to ignore the back-n-forth between Casey and Grimes, she withdrew in thought. Based on what she knew now, she felt that she would need to make up her mind real soon about the course of her future. It would be another sleepless night, not because of the Intersect, but because of the decisions she had to make short term.

Nevertheless instead of forcing it now, she decided it was better to leave her deeper thoughts be and focus on their current situation.

"Dim the lights," Casey instructed their driver when they turned onto a dirt road, leading to an abandoned shack. "Stop here."

Morgan stopped the car and killed the engine. She leaned forwards between the front seats and watched as Zarnow apparently told his henchmen what to do with Chuck as they dragged him into the shack.

She listened as Morgan made his case for a stealthy approach as to where Casey thought it was the best idea to immediately intervene with guns blazing.

"So what do you think, Sam?" Morgan asked, pulling her into the discussion without hesitation.

* * *

The sharp scent of ammonia directly under his nose brought him back from the blissful nothingness. He shook his head violently, trying to get his bearings, and found himself strapped to an iron chair with duct tape. Had the duct tape been on sale somewhere? Even his mouth was covered with it.

"Ah, Agent Bartowski, welcome back," Dr. Zarnow sneered. "Did you really think you could try and pull the wool over my eyes?"

"Hrmbfmph."

"Like I wouldn't figure out that you're Patient X, the human Intersect?"

He rolled his eyes. Technically the doctor was not wrong in his assessment, but his Intersect was kind of useless and unpredictable to boot.

"You are going to make me a filthy rich man once I sell you off to the highest bidder," Dr. Zarnow smirked. "Normally I'd sell you to North Korea, but I'm sure that you will fetch me much, much more on the open market."

He mumbled into the duct tape again and let out a deep breath through his nose. It was really going to hurt when all the tape would be removed, like a band aid and then a lot worse.

"I suggest you make yourself comfortable, Agent Bartowski, because, unless I get an offer that I simply can't refuse, you won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

* * *

He groaned quite loudly with deep disgust when he took the tranq gun, which Grimes had pulled from his ankle holster, and checked it. Real men carried real weapons. Though the gnome had had a point that Zarnow and his goons were more valuable alive than dead, and with the asset backing up Grimes' reasoning, he had conceded.

"So we're clear on the plan?" He inquired so there would be no misunderstandings later on. "Grimes, you stay here and make sure that Sam does not leave this car under any circumstances, only when it's a matter of life or death. Sam, stay in the car."

The two nodded in agreement. He took a deep, cleansing breath to stop his growing adrenaline rush; he lived for action and gunplay. Part of him still wanted to switch to his custom P229 and go in full force.

He gave them both one last stern look that promised there would be painful consequences to disobeying his orders, and snuck off into the shadows of the trees and the night.

* * *

She fidgeted nervously with the hem of her t-shirt, which stupidly read 'Come to the Nerd side. We have Pi.', waiting for the plan to go to hell, since nothing seemed to go her way at the moment. Could she have been any more dorky?

"It'll be fine," Morgan said in a soft, reassuring voice while he turned a little in the driver's seat to be able to look at her.

She simply shrugged her shoulders in response and continued to fake an interest in the stitching of the hem.

"So," he began after a lengthy silence, undoubtedly trying to get a conversation going to kill the time. "What do you think of Chuck?"

It was a good thing it was practically dark in the car and outside, so he did not notice the bright blush on her face. She stifled a cough and answered: "He's... not what I expected of a spy."

He chuckled: "Ain't that the truth, but that's not what I meant."

"I know," she whispered, wishing he would drop the subject.

Determined not to admit to anything before she had sorted herself out, she let another lull fall into the conversation. Whatever she did feel, or did not feel, was something else to examine, and to make up her mind about later on.

When she had blurted out, to her own disbelief, that she had liked him, it had been the truth. Chuck was funny and engaging, genuinely interested and listened to what she said. Things that made her feel even more unworthy of his attention.

"I know my boy likes you," Morgan did not relent. "He has to pretend not to, to keep the bosses off his back, but I've known him long enough to spot the tells that he does. Or maybe he hasn't realized it himself yet. But he does."

It felt like her face had caught fire. Apparently Chuck's best friend was a blabbermouth. Yet, just like that, there was another spark of hope. Maybe her efforts so far had not been in vain after all? Maybe she should listen to Bryce and take his advices?

She kept quiet again, hoping it would prompt Morgan to disclose even more. It paid off, when he said: "It's just... He's been hurt pretty badly in the past-"

"Jill," she interjected with deep contempt in her voice.

"So you've heard?"

"Not the details, just that Ellie hates her with a passion because of something she did to Chuck," she replied.

He nodded in contemplation and she waited for his decision to spill or not. It was an uncomfortable silence.

"He was planning a future with her. You know, pop the question over a candlelit dinner at some swanky restaurant, with violinists, champagne, the whole romantic shebang," he paused, and she silently willed him to continue. "So one night, he put the plan in motion and while he's working up the courage to ask her, she starts off by confessing that she's been cheating on him for a while now. With his frat brother Bruce Laramee."

"That's... That's horrible," she remarked shocked.

Her case was almost just as bad, with the big difference that she had not been dating the guy before she had caught him with her roommate. Not that it made the feeling of betrayal any less, but she did feel a strong sympathy for Chuck because in a way she could relate.

"Needless to say that marked the end of that relationship, which was a good thing since she was totally not right for him," he added with a hint of hate. "The next morning he immediately went to see Professor Flemming and agreed to recruitment into the CIA. Something he had been holding off because he thought he would start a family with Jill soon."

For obvious reasons, it was no longer a hate by proxy, but a profound hate. And not all too surprisingly, a sense of gratitude, for letting go of a guy like Chuck.

"So when I'm asking what you think of Chuck, it's because I'm looking out for him," he concluded in a threatening voice. "I don't know you, but I do know that I never want to see him hurt. Again. Because he fell for the wrong girl. Again."

With her voice suddenly refusing active duty, all she could do was nod in understanding and agreement, in the hopes that Morgan would see it.

* * *

The biggest disadvantage of hiring a henchman was that the guy tended to be enormously stupid, something he usually made up for in brutal strength. If properly fooled, which was not that difficult given the lack of intelligence, the henchman was extremely easy to take out.

He had learned that in his army days, and had put it to good use in his career with the NSA. The two henchmen, he had just encountered and taken down, had been more of the same suit. Now they were laying zip tied in the darkest shadows of the shack, waiting for their extraction. The evil doctor would be joining them soon, if he had a say in it.

Slow but steadily he moved over to the dirt covered window and quickly glanced inside. A simple bulb bathed the interior in sharp white light. Bartowski was duct taped to a chair and Zarnow was looking at him as if he were the goose with the golden eggs.

He did not like Bartowski, but he owed it to him to rescue him for Zarnow's greedy claws. The kid had turned out to be pretty smart and had seen through Zarnow's plans. It would be pretty useful to keep him around, if this babysitting gig would last for an undetermined period of time, which seemed very likely since the one person who might have been able to get the secrets out of the asset's head would be heading for a CIA or a NSA black site soon.

Plus there would be a lot of red tape to cut through and it would be pretty difficult to explain to their superiors how he had lost his - he nearly choked at the thought - new partner, who may or may not have an Intersect, in no more than three days.

He peered through the window again. There were a few options to pick from, ranging from deception to direct attack. He preferred the last, and with the doctor having his back turned to the door, it could work. The biggest unknown factor was whether Zarnow was armed or not, something he could not determine from his position. However the element of surprise should work in his favor.

He snuck over to the run-down door and stood upright before checking the tranq gun, nearly giving himself away with another grunt of disgust escaping him. Counting down from ten, he rammed his shoulder into the rotten wood and took most of the door down in one go. With the gun at the ready, he immediately pulled the trigger when he got his target in sight.

The traitorous doctor did not even have the time to turn around and react before he went down like deadweight. His idiot partner looked at him with a mixture of shock and surprise. He rolled his eyes and quickly zip tied the evil doctor so he would not have to worry about the man making his escape.

For a moment his sadistic side took over and he wondered if he should leave Bartowski behind to make him sweat a little. Much to his own chagrin, reason took over and he looked around for a knife or scissors, finding a box cutter. Four quick slashes, that elicited a distorted yelp from the moron, and Bartowski's hands were free. He handed the box cutter to him, and dug up his cell phone to call in a cleanup crew.

* * *

He winced in pain when he pulled the bits and pieces of the duct tape off. He would need ointment for that. Maybe Ellie would have something to soothe the burn of his chapped skin? A shudder ran through him; this would be very hard to explain to his overprotective sister, who without a doubt, would go scary doctor on him. Perhaps it was best if he would just suck it up, and thus avoid any and all questions his sister would have on how he got his injuries. He was not ready to explain his complicated work situation to her; his official job title was analyst, but as the Intersect he had been sent out in the field as an agent. As long as she were to think he was sitting safe behind a desk, she would be safe.

"Casey, a sight for sore eyes," he said with a tentative smile.

"Put a sock in it, Bartowski," the NSA agent grumbled. "Or I will wrap your head in duct tape."

"Uh, no thanks."

"Damn, it would be an improvement in your case," Casey offered with an evil smirk.

"Thanks for rescuing me," he chose to ignore the poking.

"Yeah, well, the asset and the gnome won't go on a bitch fest now," was the growled response.

He could return the poking, but decided against it, because he was certain that Casey would make good on his threat if he did.

* * *

Incessant blaring of her alarm woke her from her dreamless sleep. She groaned annoyed, reached for the obnoxious thing and hit it as hard as she could. Just five more minutes.

Her eyes snapped open when she realized that the alarm would not have gone off if it had not been morning yet. Upon heaving a deeply annoyed groan, she rolled onto her back and glared at the ceiling.

Ever since she had gotten that email from Zondra, nothing seemed to go to plan anymore. When she had so desperately wanted to sleep, she could not, and now that she had wanted to stay awake and think on life changing things in the solitude of her room, she had fallen asleep. Which should not have come as a surprise at all, because she had been dead tired despite the few hours of sleep she had gotten yesterday afternoon. So what was it exactly that she had expected last night when lying down on her bed after telling Bryce to mind his own damn business when he had overloaded her with questions, after she had gotten home shortly before midnight?

She let out another groan. She was not one step closer to figuring out what she wanted now that the Intersect appeared to stay where it was. _'Or who,'_ her mind reminded her ever so subtly. Chuck was certainly a complication.

After a few minutes of glaring at the ceiling in silence, she got up, changed into her work outfit, managed to make herself look half-decent in the bathroom and went to the living room. Bryce was already there, reading the newspaper. She groaned in annoyance again, really not in the mood to deal with his 'concerned parent'-mode again.

Much to her huge surprise, he looked up and wished her a good morning. He told her to sit down while he would get her breakfast and coffee, and engaged in idle chitchat while they ate. His sudden change in behavior was suspicious, or maybe she was just being paranoid and had he finally gotten the message to butt out last night.

A good twenty minutes later, she stepped out of her front door and found only Casey waiting for her in the courtyard. It came as a relief and a disappointment at the same time. She did not want spend any more time with Chuck than she already did, but his absence made her-

She cut off that thought instantly.

"Where's Chuck?" She asked anyway.

"CIA-nerd's gone back to Bakersfield," Casey grunted in a fashion that told her she would better drop the subject and not question him about it.


	10. Chapter 10: Versus the Boot Camp (I)

**A/N:** So I'm getting to one of the bigger AU points that had actually been planned for a couple of chapters back. But sometimes as a writer you have to let the story lead you to set up all the pieces properly. Without leaving the reader guessing about all that went on in the writer's mind which did not make it on paper, or in this case the computer screen, but that could crucial to the story. So I wanted to complete the Pilot/Helicopter arc first. This arc should tie in with Tango/Wookiee, well, somewhat.  
This chapter is in two povs. Like the adorable bugga he is, Chuck crawled more and more into the story while that was not my intention. All I can say in my defense is: I want to handle all sides of the story I want to tell?

On a side note, my desktop's hard-drive went on the fritz earlier this week, so all I have now is my netbook which is a relief but it is not the most convenient device when writing or responding. A lot of the time is 'wasted' with waiting for the little machine to be ready, which is the reason why this chapter is right on time and not two days earlier.

A huge thank you to all whom have taken the time to read and/or review this story. And welcome to the new followers.

Fezzywhigg & Joe-El: Thanks... And what can I say? I like to take unexpected turns ;-). Though in this chapter I will not address Chuck's reason yet - I know, a little spoilerish - but it's not forgotten.

Guest: Thank you.

BCC1: I hope this chapter will make up for the lack of and that it is Sam/Sarah aplenty ;-) And no, Sarah won't be there for the occasional flash and heartache, as this chapter will hopefully show.

As always, reviews are most welcome and very much appreciated... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'Chuck'.

* * *

Again the call went immediately to voice-mail. She had left a message the first three times, but after that she just hung up. There were more polite ways to brush someone off.

She placed her cell phone on the desk and looked over her notes. After being called into Big Mike's office for a fourth morning in a row, where she had not been able to answer him as to where Bartowski was, she had decided to spend her time in the Cage.

Left with her own thoughts while pretending to be busy with a backlog of computer repairs, she had come to a few conclusions. Last night had been a real eye-opener to her; it was only because Morgan had been there to keep her occupied or she would have left the car to help. However she had been very aware of the feeling of powerlessness. Stuck in a car, completely useless.

Chuck had been in serious trouble, and there was nothing she could have done about it. She doubted she could have fooled Morgan into letting her go, and she was not sure if he deserved to be knocked out. That is if she were able to.

She had, in fact, hated having to sit and wait. So her first conclusion? She was going to take matters into her own hands. No more idly sitting by, while others put themselves in harm's way to keep her safe.

What if she got captured and there was no one to rescue her? She needed to be able to at least defend herself. A quick glance on her watch told her that she had thirty minutes left until she had her lunch break. Again she had to sit and wait. She shook her head, uttering a grunt the man she wanted to talk to would be impressed by.

* * *

The bell above the door chimed and he looked up just in time to see the asset enter the Wienerlicious. He looked at the clock and saw it was her lunch break.

"If you're coming here to grill me about Bartowski," he began in a gruff voice.

She shook her head: "I wanted to talk to you about some things."

"Taking five," he growled at Scooter, who wisely did not object and kept his distance.

He lead her outside to the most distant table and sat her down before taking the seat across the table from her.

"So what is it?" He asked annoyed and curious at the same time. "And don't even think of mentioning Bartowski. I don't know why he went back or if he's even coming back, and I don't care. Lady feelings are his thing, not mine."

"It's about last night," she replied while she grabbed a paper napkin and started shredding it.

He growled softly. Though he warned her not to talk about the CIA-nerd, he doubted that she would not.

"What about last night?" He took the bait anyway.

He could always get up and leave her sitting there.

"I understand that I got to stay in the car for my own safety, but-"

"It bugged the hell out of you?" He finished for her.

"Hmm-mmm... I've spent most of my mature life hiding, and I'm done with it. If I am supposed to be this special kind of spy, shouldn't I at least get some training?"

He guffawed at the question, then realized this was one way to one up the CIA moron, and let the laughter die quickly. She had a point and if she was willing to put in the work and effort, who was he to deny her that?

"And you're asking me?" He wanted to be sure.

"Hmm-mmm."

The paper napkin was now a pile of tiny shreds of paper.

"And not Bartowski?"

"Hmm-mmm."

He smiled slowly and nodded in agreement: "Just give me a little time and I'll see what I can set up for you."

* * *

After her lunch break she had retreated to the Cage again. It was the perfect disguise to do some more thinking. If Casey would come through, it would be a big first step in the right direction.

An hour before her shift officially had ended, he had texted her an address and had instructed her to meet him there after work. It was a white, boring looking one-story building that housed the Burbank Fitness Centre without any signs to draw the attention and she wondered about the nature of the company. Maybe it was paranoia kicking in, but after the last couple of days she no longer took everything at face value.

Casey was waiting for her by the entrance and gave a dark smirk as a greeting before he lead her into the building.

"So what are we doing here?"

"This'll be your IST," he growled.

"IST?"

"Initial strength test. Gonna see how you fare and what we'll be working with," he explained in short.

She swallowed nervously. Aside from the run once or twice a week, she lead a quite passive life so it did not bode well.

"Who is we?" She queried.

He snorted and shook his head before he pressed some standard issue workout clothes in her hands: "Get changed and be out in five. Don't make me come in and get you, because I will."

She began to worry about her first decision. Casey was taking this a little too seriously. But was it not what she had wanted? To be taken seriously? After taking a deep breath to still her growing nervousness, she went in the direction he had pointed her in to get changed.

* * *

He nodded in appreciation; she had been ready and out in less than five minutes, which was a promising sign to him. At least so far she was taking this seriously.

"First things first," he told her, gesturing she should follow him. "I need a name."

"A name?"

"To get you in the system. A cover name, not your real one," he grunted somewhat annoyed with her lack of understanding. "Any thoughts? Or I can give you one."

"Sarah Walker," she answered without a second of hesitation and with complete conviction.

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity and realized his mistake too late. Undoubtedly there would be a long back-story to that name, one he really did not want to hear: "Save it for Bartowski, Walker," he cut her off when he saw she was getting ready to explain.

Walker, the name felt right to be severely abused by him while training her. An irritated growl escaped him when he wondered about where the name Sarah came from, but if he asked, he feared he would learn much more than he wanted to. He would leave that for Bartowski to find out, if and when the moron would come back.

"The test consists of three parts. A run, a flex-arm hang and crunches," he stated, leaving out the specifics intentionally. "We'll start with the flex-arm hang," he added while he nodded at the horizontal overhead bar. "The point is to keep your chin above the bar for as long as possible. Understood?"

She nodded and he suppressed a growl. If she were decently fit and came somewhere close to his requirements, which were similar to Marine boot camp, there would be enough time to explain that she should answer him with 'Sir' instead of nodding or shaking her head. At least for the duration of her training, which could be long or short, depending on her eagerness to learn and train.

* * *

The only discipline she had done well on, had been the run. One-point-five miles in the littlest bit under fifteen minutes on the treadmill, which had been a surprise to her as well. Casey had simply nodded and cut her down by growling his displeasure about her performances with the flex-arm hang and the crunches.

However it had not been all in vain, because he had informed her that he saw some potential in her. So if she was willing to follow his instructions, he was willing to put together a training schedule. Nevertheless he had warned her that if she were to complain about the strict regiment, he would make her work twice as hard. That was something she was definitely not looking forward to.

She took her time changing back into her clothes and looked at her cell phone's display. Bryce had called twice, but no call from Chuck. She put the device away, ran her hands through her uncooperative hair and headed out the door.

"Walker!" Casey barked after her.

At first she did not realize he meant her, until he repeated her chosen name with the force of a drill instructor. She stopped dead in her tracks and waited for him to catch up.

"Oh-six-hundred hours, tomorrow morning. Be ready."

She thought of objecting since tomorrow would be her day off, but she remembered just in time that complaining would have a negative effect. Thus she nodded: "Yes, sir."

* * *

He buried his head under his pillow. Who the hell had set the alarm at five-thirty in the morning? It had to be a mistake, because he knew his roommate, and on her days off, she would never get up before ten.

At this hour the alarm blared loudly through the apartment, and he would not be too surprised if the entire apartment complex was awoken by it. The incessant sound finally stopped and he removed the pillow, only to hear Sam stumble around in her room.

'What the hell is going?' He thought while he listened to her moving.

By now, with all the weird things that had happened over the past few days, added her increasingly odd behavior, he was really getting worried. After stretching, he got up and snuck out of his room, which came down to him stumbling about and stubbing his toe against the door-frame.

He danced around on one foot, barely able to keep the curses in, but he did not want to alert her, so he had to suck it up. She came out of her room, dressed in a black t-shirt, gray sweat pants and black trainers. Her unruly hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail.

A low groan nearly eluded him as he felt torn between catching the last bit of his sleep and following her to see what was going on. The first option won after he convinced himself that there would be other, better chances to find out what had Sam act so out of sorts.

* * *

She had even been a little early, something he greatly approved of. It had shown him that she was taking this seriously. For now. And thus far she had done everything he had ordered her to do without questioning or complaining once. He had to admit that he was impressed. Just a little.

"Okay, Walker. Just five more," he instructed her, keeping her feet firmly down while she did another set of sit-ups. "Four... Three... Two... One... And done."

He watched with a feeling of devilish delight as she let herself fall back tiredly. If she had expected that he would be going easy on her on the first day, she had not been paying any attention on the ride over to the Burbank Fitness Centre when he had explained to her what he was demanding of her this early morning.

Again she did not complain, in fact she did her damndest best to keep the grimace off her face. He nodded in approval and held out a bottle of water to her, intentionally forcing her to sit up. Without pain there would be no gain.

She had a long road ahead of her, but without that CIA moron to be a distraction, they might actually get somewhere. Though it might be a complete waste of time and effort to train her, when she would turn obsolete as the Intersect in a few months, when the new one would get online.

A surprising thought entered his mind that left him grimacing. Maybe, if he could get her ready properly, she would not have to be terminated. He growled annoyed; it was something Bleeding Heart Bartowski should think of, not him.

* * *

It was a little past ten when she returned to the deserted apartment. Which was very welcome to her, since Bryce would go all mother hen on her and would want to know where she had been these past few hours.

Her entire body was hurting, even in places she did not know that existed. It was even worse than after her unfortunate meeting with the floor after getting the Intersect uploaded. However the day was not over yet, and she was expected to be ready to go again at sixteen-hundred hours. Four p.m. to laymen, Casey had explained to her.

After shuffling slowly to her room, she checked her cell phone which she had left on her desk. There were no new calls or messages, which was disappointing. She took her shoes off, set the alarm and let herself fall face first on her bed. Within seconds, she was lost to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

"D.C.? The moron's been called back to D.C.?" He growled furiously, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides.

"Calm down, Major Casey," General Beckman told him from the TV-screen. "He was going to Rizzo'-"

He snorted with deep contempt at the name.

"She was a good spy once, Major, and they worked together a few times in the past," she continued undisturbed.

"Which is exactly why we can't trust Bartowski or the asset... They've known her... And since when are we paying for traitors' funerals? What happens if we finally flush out and kill Bin Laden? Give him a state funeral?"

"Don't be absurd, Major Casey," he could tell that she was starting to lose her patience with him by the pitch in her voice.

His entire good mood had gone down the drain in seconds, and this while he had planned something fun later today. Well, something that was his kind of fun anyway.

With the asset - _'Walker,'_ he corrected himself in thoughts - showing more dedication and eagerness than he had expected, he had decided to introduce her to the 'pugil sticks' a lot earlier than he had actually planned. That was his kind of fun: beating his student senseless with a pugil stick, though she might not feel the same way.

Maybe he should review his plans now. Senseless would be fun, to death however would cause a lot of problems, the Completely Incompetent Ass being one of the major ones undoubtedly.

* * *

She woke up in exactly the same position as she had fallen asleep in, to the alarm blaring. A low hiss passed her lips when she tried to move; there was not any part of her body objecting against movement, but she had to get up.

Yet she could not complain or ask for a rain check because this was all her own choice. If she wanted to be an active part in this operation, not having to stay in the car all the time, this was what she had signed up for.

Carefully she rolled onto her back and for a moment seriously doubted the wisdom of this decision. Her legs, her arms, everything felt like it was on fire. She let out a pitiful moan when she struggled to sit up. All she needed to do was get moving again. Casey had forbidden her the use of any pain killers, but now she was considering to go against his orders. What he did not know. Yet something withheld her from cheating on her training.

Slowly she moved to the edge of her bed. This was going to get worse before the day was over, and what excuse would she have going into work tomorrow? After taking a few deep breaths, she got to her feet and almost took a dive when her calves and thighs began to buckle. Gritting her teeth, she put one foot in front of the other and managed to make it to her desk, where she checked the display of her phone again.

Bryce had called twice, left one voice-mail and sent one text. Ellie had texted her as well, asking her if she knew where Chuck had gone. Nevertheless the one person she had hoped to get any answer from, had remained suspiciously silent. Did he even bother to check?

Even in her pain induced haze that covered her mind she understood that it would seem odd if she had no idea where her so-called boyfriend was, so she texted Ellie the most logical answer back. That Chuck had gone back to Bakersfield to take care of a few things before coming back to Los Angeles again, which was what she assumed for now.

She put her sport shoes back on, deciding against taking a shower since Casey would make her sweat again anyway, and wandered into the kitchen in search of something to eat.

Casey had treated her to a healthy and nutritious breakfast on the way to the centre, but that was hours ago, and with all the physical effort she had put in, she was simply starving. Thank the heavens for Bryce who was always peckish after coming home from work because that meant there was always something around to eat. She settled for a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a glass of milk.

* * *

"Holy hell!" He exclaimed when he stumbled back again after she nearly took his head off with a hard, precise swipe of her pugil stick. "What the hell's gotten into you, Walker?"

She had been hesitant and unsure at the start of their little stick fight, and he had gotten in some easy blows, much to his own amusement. Which had lead to him taunting her about everything and anything, from being a wimp to hitting like a girl, from living with an adult kid to that stupid CIA-agent.

All hell had broken loose after that. She had charged at him aggressively, unrelenting, and all he could do was block and deflect the blows that kept coming. Gone was the hesitation. Forgotten was the soreness of her muscles. Further and further back she had forced him.

She sure had a fighting spirit, something he could truly appreciate and approve of. Sure he had pushed some buttons, but he had unleashed the Walker. However she was starting to run out of energy now, and soon enough the tables would be turned around. A devilish smirk crept on his face. He would pace himself, wait for the perfect opening and pay her back in kind, blow for blow. His ego and competitive spirit demanded it.

Distracted by the tempting thoughts of exacting revenge, he missed her lowering her stick. Something hit him hard at the back of his knee and his leg gave way. The air was pressed from his lungs in a low growl when he suddenly found himself flat on his back. She appeared over him, her stick now pressed firmly in the soft flesh of his throat. He was quite impressed, realizing that not only she could unleash quite the fury, she was a sneaky one as well.

"Huh, there's hope for you yet, Walker," he grinned, pushing the stick away and sitting up.


	11. Chapter 11: Vs the Green-eyed Monster

**A/N:** Two days ahead of schedule, a new chapter, but that has gotten quite common. Though I'm more like Casey at this point and like to pretend it doesn't really matter to me, I do like getting reviews but I want it to remain optional. However a review does give me a feel of how the story and its chapters is being received, the chance to correct the wrongs and steer it back or in a direction I had previously not thought of.

So in a way, this story is not only a part of me, but of you, the reader and the reviewer, as well. Without your input, it would not have been where it is today so a huge thank you to all whom have taken the time to read and/or review this story so far. A big thank you to my beta too, I know this is not your 'verse, but you do me this favor every week.

Also a warm welcome to the new followers. And for those expecting Charah, no worries, it will happen soon... Or maybe later... *insert evil laugh*

Guest: Thank you, and the training will come back, I promise. It was fun to write those scenes; I just need to come up with a few sadistic ideas here and there to use. Nevertheless I think a lot of readers would revolt if I only kept to the banter and violent bonding between Sarah and Casey, lol, though Sarah beating the living daylights out of anyone, well, I doubt that could ever become boring.

Nomadic Nerd: Thank you, and for the observation in Chapter 9 as well. Didn't know that or maybe I did and simply forgot, and it's definitely something to keep in mind for future reference :-) . As for Charah, the story's getting there, but just like Sam's development into Sarah, it's a little more paced than I had originally planned, but unless she suffered severe brain trauma, I couldn't really imagine her going from one side to the other overnight, and I seriously doubt Sam, as depicted in Vs the Cougars, would ever think she's worthy of Chuck's attention. She was simply too aloof and insecure, with good reason, but still.

tshdow: Thank you.

As always, reviews are most welcome and very much appreciated... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'Chuck'.

* * *

The blood stopped thundering through her veins, and the world came into focus again. Casey lay flat on his back on the mat, looking at her with what could be described a proud smirk. For a third day in a row she had managed to take him down. In a blind rage.

Who knew that channeling anger and frustration into violence could be so cathartic? Sure, Casey had provoked her until she had seen red, but she was learning to tap into the seemingly endless well of unbridled emotion.

Especially Chuck seemed to be a sore spot for her. Her so-called boyfriend had managed to ignore her for three solid days now, and she was getting sick and tired of it. Would it kill him to at least answer a call once or send a text message? Now it felt like she was stuck in limbo, not a feeling she particularly enjoyed.

She held out her hand to pull her teacher to his feet. That was a mistake. Before she knew it, he had her pinned down with his right forearm pressed firmly against her throat: "Never hold out your hand to the enemy," he growled with bared teeth. "And stop being distracted, Walker! It'll get you killed."

She gave a light nod in understanding. He was right; she had assumed the fight was over, and would have paid dearly for it if it had been for real. It was something to remember for the future: never ever let your guard down, even if it looked like you had won, because in reality fights were never fair.

"Lady feelings'll get you dead out there," he added while he removed his arm. "Got it?"

It was the opening, his mistake, she was looking for. Only to see a million stars, and to feel an equal amount of stings, in her head when she head-butted him. Damn, that man had a really thick skull!

"Admirable," he nodded, rubbing his forehead after he released her and sat back. "You are learning. A lesser man would've been knocked out cold."

* * *

The whole funeral had been a joke. No service, only a burial with a closed casket. Except for Amy, Carina and him, all mourners had been planted agents. It had been a charade. Yet he preferred that one over the one he found himself back in now.

The funeral had been two days ago and where he had thought he would take the next flight back to Bakersfield, Director Graham had ordered him to stay and come in for a few meetings. Long meetings with little to no result, punishment for not following protocol, he was sure of that. If you got on his bad side, the Director would go great lengths to make work life quite unpleasant for you. What Director Graham failed to see was that the longer he kept him here, the harder it would be to get and keep Sam out of the clutches of that gruff NSA-agent, making his job unnecessarily harder than it needed to be.

Though, if he were to be honest, he was making his job harder on his own as well. By deliberately ignoring the calls and texts in relation to the asset. He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. His reluctance had come back to bite him on the ass pretty hard. Things would have been a lot easier if their relationship had been remotely real. And that was exactly where things went awry, turned into a cliché contradiction of Chuck the agent versus Chuck the human.

His cell phone chimed and he checked the message. To make things even more interesting, he now had the name of the agent who would temporarily strengthen the team in Los Angeles. At least with her he would not have to worry about a 49B soon since she held quite the disregard for appropriate protocol. He wished he could say the same of his NSA-partner, who was undoubtedly filling the asset's head with fibs and untruths.

* * *

"Sam," Jeff began, giving her one of his creepy look. "You look... yummy today."

"Back off, Jeff," Bryce immediately jumped in. "You too, Lester."

She rolled her eyes, like she needed him to be her champion, but it was what he had always done, ever since they had become friends. The changes in her Nerd Herd outfit had been a calculated risk, with creeps like Jeff, Lester and Fernando. However it had felt right somehow.

Or maybe she had listened a little too much to the side of her that was Sarah Walker. The part that wanted to stop hiding from the world. For years she had accepted a mousy existence and appearance because it had kept her off the radar, safe. However where Sam had been completely fine with looking a dork – because who would look at a dork twice, right? - stuck in a dead-end job, Sarah Walker was a completely different story. Walker downright did not accept baggy pants, nerdy t-shirts and old sneakers as a suitable wardrobe.

_'God, I sound like I'm two different persons,'_ she thought mildly amused.

For now she dismissed Sarah as an act, but she also knew that at one point she would have to unite those two sides of her. Or maybe it would not come to that?

"I was only paying her a compliment," Jeff protested.

She frowned for a second and nodded. Compared to the completely inappropriate things Jeff was to known to say, this was indeed to be considered a decent compliment. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

It was the Sarah Walker part of her that had been confident enough to update her Nerd Herd outfit today, by trading in the black slacks for a skirt and the trainers for comfortable low heels. Nevertheless the part of her that was still Sam had begun to find the newly-found attention from men to be intoxicating and addictive. Turning heads boosted her confidence and flattered her ego, decreasing her low self-esteem to the point where she became a little daring.

Should she go for the next phase? Or would it be too much too soon? She looked at Bryce who still stood glaring at the two crazies. Maybe he was right? Maybe she should go back to her golden blond instead of this matte coppery blond? If you had to do something, you better do it right, right? She shook her head in dismissal: she needed to crawl first, then learn to walk before she should even think of running. Patience was a virtue, and it was time that Walker was going to practice it. She would make sure of it.

* * *

He looked in the direction of the Nerd Herd and saw his best friend help an elderly lady in digital distress. A deep sigh passed his lips; he felt completely left out, and quite frankly it sucked. Like she had decided from one day upon another to move on with her life without him.

She had not needed saving from Jeff and Lester, and all the other crazies, but he had done it anyway. Was it a last-ditch effort to show her that she could depend on him to have her back, no matter what? A desperate try to get his best friend back? He let out another sigh.

His focus had been on Ellie's little brother, fearing Sam would fall completely under his spell, but now he was losing his best friend to that middle-aged ape John instead. The man had a way about him that made him think that he would not hesitate to shoot him if given the chance. Preferably twice.

Of course, they both had their own lives, but at the end of the day they would hang out and discuss their days. Ever since he found her on the floor of her room after her birthday, things had been different. Like hitting her head had changed her personality. She had never been an open book on her emotions, and it had taken him years to learn to read her tells, but now it seemed even worse than ever before.

He had been there to catch and help her after the whole Zondra debacle back in college, and he wanted to be there for her now, but she was not letting him. Whatever it was he could deal with it, but ever since Chuck and John had appeared in their lives, her trust in him had diminished. If pressed for the truth, he had to admit that was what hurt the most.

* * *

Finally he was out of there, out of D.C. and on his way to Bakersfield. It had taken way too long, for his taste. As soon as he got back to Los Angeles, he would need to do some serious damage control, part of which he could only blame himself for.

"Why the sour face, Chuckie?" Carina asked in the seat next to him.

He shook his head. It certainly was not the first time he would have to work with her, and it was not the first plane ride with Carina. He knew that she loved nothing more than to rattle his cage and stir up trouble wherever she went. She was a loose cannon, but one hell of a DEA-agent as well.

"Can't wait to meet your girlfriend," she remarked offhandedly.

He thought of protesting that assumption. Sam was not his girlfriend, only pretending to be. During the briefing Carina had been made aware that whatever there was going on between the asset and him, it was only a cover.

"Aw, you're no fun," she pouted, making a show of crossing her arms.

"A lot on my mind, Carina. You're not the most reliable person I've had the pleasure of working with," he stated.

"Maybe," she smirked. "But I sure am the hottest."

He rolled his eyes. Carina was a class apart, and her antics could cause more trouble than it was worth. The thought of denying her statement passed his mind, but it would require a lot of explaining and it would cause a lot of trouble in the end. Something Carina might already be looking for, judging by the look in her eyes as she sat studying him.

Suddenly she burst into laughter: "I don't hear you object, so I assume you agree," she hiccuped, sending him a saucy wink.

He groaned softly and picked up the case file Director Graham had provided him with during the last meeting. 'La Ciudad', world's most dangerous and most elusive arms dealer. Reports mentioned MI6 activity on American soil, in chase of the man or woman, but nothing concrete so far as to the true identity. Chatter had resulted in a few possible leads as to where La Ciudad might turn up, an art auction at the Wilshire Grand in Los Angeles being the most likely.

She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. His initial reaction would be to shrug her off, but it would only challenge her, so he did nothing.

"Speaking of, I'm really sorry about Zondra," she tried to engage him again.

"Thanks," he smiled faintly, knowing that he had to take the bait this time. "I'm sorry too."

She snorted before stating in a sweet voice brimming over with contempt: "Of course, getting dead is an occupational hazard. It really wasn't a surprise though."

_'Typically Carina,'_ he thought wryly.

* * *

"I'm sorry for my idiot brother," Ellie began her apology when she caught her in the courtyard.

Her answer was a single shrug of her shoulders.

"I raised him better than that."

"I'm sure he'll have a good reason for taking so long," she countered remembering the white lie. "It's not like his employers are the most cooperative."

Ellie looked at her curiously, one eyebrow raised, her head tilted a little to the right: "You know... You know he's with the Agency, don't you?"

Her answer was a single nod in agreement.

"Wow," Ellie sighed. "It took him months to come clean and tell me, and you know in a couple of days."

She had known in a flash, quite literally, but she could not tell her friend that, knowing it would trigger that impressive protective side of Ellie. And she did not want to cause a gap between brother and sister.

"He must be serious," Ellie drew the wrong conclusion.

She suppressed the need to snort in contempt. If anything, Chuck Bartowski was not serious, at least not where it concerned their fake relationship. She had called him a few more times, had sent him a couple of texts, since he had left, but no answer had ever come. What was the point of maintaining a pretend relationship when there was one person involved? What was the point of the other half was unreachable?

At least Casey was around, was trying to help her out, in spite of his gruff behavior and harsh words. Too bad the same could not be said of Ellie's brother. Chuck seemed to know about the Intersect, a lot more than his NSA counterpart, and there were countless questions she needed, wanted answers to.

However, he was not there. Shining in absence. Feeding the deeper, darker side of her soul. Emotions she gathered, bottled up and released whenever her mentor thought it was a good time to taunt her mercilessly in training.

* * *

He read the status report over once more, making sure all the relevant information had been included, and clicked the 'send'-button. Though he would never admit it out loud, the asset had been most impressive in her drive to become more than a backseat filler. She seemed really committed, which was admirable since she had been thrust into this game of shadows and mirrors only days before.

He turned to his bonsai and gently touched the branches. It would need some pruning soon and maybe a copper wire or two to redirect its growth. His computer chimed and he turned back to see his superior appear on the monitor.

"Ma'am," he nearly jumped out of his seat to give her the proper respect.

"At ease, Major," she told him with a sour smile. "Is the report correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

General Beckman nodded thoughtfully, pushed a few stacks of paper back and forth and looked at him sternly: "Good. Though I am still convinced this is simply a waste of time, carry on... A heads up, Major Casey, Bartowski is on his way back."

Without giving him a chance to react, the screen went black immediately; no further instructions other than to carry on. He nodded in agreement and looked over the practice schedule. This week was all about building up endurance and resistance, the next week the asset would learn about weapons. Soon he would take her to the firing range and find out her preferences.

"Gorrammit," he growled when he realized he had not gotten to asking if he had already been cleared to read the unredacted Bartowski file.

He cracked his knuckles. Though he was not sure what he thought he would find in the complete, uncensored file, he was convinced that it would confirm his suspicions. At least the most burning one. It would be handy if he knew whether he was dealing with one or two Intersects. With Bartowski coming back, maybe he would not need the file and he could simply 'persuade' the CIA-nerd to share all the information he wanted.

* * *

She was starting to get used to Casey's rigorous regime. Getting up at five in the morning for the early training session, yet without a big mug of strong coffee first, she still was not much of a morning person. Matching Casey in grouchiness was not a smart choice, she had discovered early on when he had quarterdecked her a few times for grumbling a reply instead of showing him the proper respect.

Another late training session after she got home from work, after a light but healthy dinner. With the day she had had, the compliments and the lewd comments, she was itching to work it all off with a good pugil stick fight.

Now it was five to eight in the evening and she decided to go out into the courtyard to wait for Casey. He seemed to appreciate her earliness. She had only set one foot outside her door when she suddenly heard the voice she had wanted to hear for a few days now, not for days ago. A strong feeling welled up inside of her, one barely controllable, one that wanted her to storm up to him and, _'What? Hit him? Hug him?'_ She rolled her eyes at the suggestions her mind gave her. It was just pretend! His voice was met by another voice, unfamiliar, female. Her temper rose another notch.

"Carina, be nice," Chuck told his companion as they entered the courtyard.

"I am nothing but nice, Chuckie, you know that," the woman identified as Carina countered.

With a little time to kill, she decided to stretch a little already, creating the circumstance in which she would meet this newcomer. She brought both her arms up over her head and heard a pop in her shoulders. A leggy redhead, with her arm hooked through Chuck's, dressed in a business suit that still left nothing much to the imagination of men, entered the courtyard.. _'Must be the Company whore,'_ she thought bitterly.

Without warning, her mind began to tingle before it was pulled under in a hard tug. A torrent of images flooded her thoughts. Pakistan, Maria Elena Alberti, Argentina, DEA, Carina Miller, career agent, Colombia; the Intersect had provided her with all available information on this woman.

"Tsugh," she breathed, shaking her head to clear her mind from the shreds of images and information.

_'Great,'_ she rolled her eyes once the fogs of the flash had lifted. _'Another agent. Thanks, Bitch.'_

This Carina was quite the looker, most certainly compared to her. At that very moment she regretted pacing herself in her big decision making and following up on those.  
So this was why her so-called boyfriend had gone off the grid? To spend time with this clingy escort pretending to be a spy? When Chuck had told her about the restrictions in their relationship, she had not expected that it would be limited to only her.

"Sam?" Chuck stammered, immediately distancing himself from Carina.

She raised an eyebrow in suspicion and gave him her deadliest stare, which he answered with a confused frown.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your plaything?" She asked with much bile to her voice.

The redhead looked at her curiously, a foreboding smirk playing on her lips.

"Uhm, yeah," Chuck stuttered. "Sam, Carina. Carina, Sam."

The handshake was a lot firmer than she had expected.

"Nice grip," the redhead smiled.

"Carina is here to assist with a few missions," Chuck went on to explain.

A loud disgruntled growl drew all of their attention and they turned to see Casey looking ready to start World War Three.

"Casey," Carina said pleasantly. "Managed to get out of Prague, I see."

"Bite me, Miller," Casey growled.

"As tempting as that sounds, Casey... Been there, done that," Carina countered with a smirk.

"Walker, you ready?" Casey asked gruffly.

"Yeah, sure."

Though she was curious about the Prague-incident, she knew better than to ask him about. Instead she focused on her anger and decided to store it to unleash it when her coach was taunting her again. Because she knew for certain that he would, and deep down she really hoped that he would.

* * *

"What was that about, Chuckie?" She asked curiously.

"Hmm?"

She had dealt with fake couples before, but none had acted like this weird pair. Most of the time neither of the partners had cared about the other was up to. As it was supposed to be. Was this really as fake as they pretended to be?

This Sam had clearly been dealing with a green-eyed monster, no matter how hard the woman had tried to hide it from her expressions. The voice could have been used for bystanders, but it was the body language that had made this encounter so damn interesting.

If she was right, and there was no doubt in her mind that she was, it could not hurt to help them a little, just not in the most conventional way. She did not do the mushy compliment road; she called it as she saw it.

The La Ciudad mission would be perfect. Casey and Sam would be there in a supporting role, as to where Chuck and her would take the lead. For Sam, as she had understood it, this was a watch-and-learn mission. And all she had to do was tap into that jealousy. She smirked with delight; there were certainly benefits to not following all those boring rules. Her sub-mission had just gotten a lot more interesting.


	12. Chapter 12: Versus the Intersect

**A/N:** A huge thank you to all the readers and reviewers. You lot are awesome! And a warm welcome to the new followers.

In my address to the reviewers I stick to the ones for the last chapter, so if you review an older chapter and don't get mentioned, it's absolutely nothing personal. Please, don't let it keep you from reviewing older chapters though, :-). It's just me trying to keep organized. Still, shortpinoyguy, thank you for the review of chapter 1 and I'm not telling on Bryce's preferences, ;-P.

ChuckFanForever: It was a little nod to FireFly indeed. The Sarah & Carina sparring match? Hmmm, I don't know, not like I've been setting that up or anything, ;-).

fezzywhigg: The dynamic sure is different, which makes writing a bit challenging from time to time, which is a good and a bad thing. Bad because it could send me into a writer's block, good because it might make me think of story options I wouldn't have thought of beforehand.

Jimmy144: Thanks.

RABCentralIL: The plan is that Sam is going to be a ninja spy girl, but how she will get there, I can't really tell since that would be spoiling. As far Sam being a little more bumbling, she'll have her moments of clumsiness, but I didn't want her walking into walls every step of the way.

Molotov & Nomadic Nerd: A bit of a spoiler, but there will be one explanation in this chapter. There are more, but I like to keep a few cards up my sleeve and not give away everything at one and the same moment. That would be a major spoiler.

As always, reviews are most welcome and very much appreciated... Alright, alright, I'll freely admit I like reading them since it gives me insight of how the chapters have been perceived and where there's room for improvement on my part.

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'Chuck'.

* * *

"CHARLES IRVING BARTOWSKI!"

His sister's voice resonated against the buildings surrounding the courtyard. His full name, that did not bode well. Before he could do or say anything, she had stormed up to him and had grabbed painfully him by the ear.

"Watch the -... Hey?... Ow!... Ow!... Ellie?" He yelped when she dragged him away from Carina.

He glanced at his temporary partner, a silent request for help, but all Carina did was mouth 'Irving?', shrug her shoulders and smirk. She seemed to find the situation amusing and was not going to do anything to stop it.

"Chuck," Ellie growled while she shook her head warily. "Have you lost your freaking mind?"

Maybe he did? He was not sure.

"Not only did you disappear without a word, you come back with... with that woman?"

It began to dawn on him; his big sister had no idea that Carina was only a colleague, and with Sam.

"That's Carina, she's... she's a colleague," he answered, not wanting to get into details.

"So where's that colleague staying?" Ellie did not ease up on the anger in her voice.

"At Maison Twenty-Three, the agency booked her a room there."

Finally he could see his sister ease up a little, but he was not fooled by it. In a split second her anger with him could be back full force. All he had to do was give one wrong answer. Now Ellie was studying him, and he wondered if she would grill him over why Carina was here. Already he had begun to come up with lies and excuses, most likely explanations, in case he would need any one of them.

"A colleague? Really?"

He nodded slowly in confirmation.

"Do you have any idea how it must look to Sam?"

A deep frown creased his brow. What did Sam have to do with it? The cover, he could smack himself for overlooking that part.

"You really are oblivious, aren't you?" Ellie rolled her eyes.

It stung that his big sister sided with Sam, but with how things looked now, there was something to be said for it. Right now he looked like a real ass.

"Carina's nothing more than a colleague. She was in town and decided to tag along and meet Sam," he twisted the truth.

Ellie gave him another stern look, finally letting go of his ear, before she shook his head: "Really, Chuck... What were you thinking?"

The anger was gone from her voice and posture, replaced by a deep disappointment. He did not know which he preferred to face though. With one last angry look, without another word, she turned on her heels and stalked back to the apartment.

* * *

"Damnit, Walker!" Casey roared after he dodged a vicious blow to the head with the pugil stick. "Stand down!"

She was too angry to control, too out of control to not be dangerous, and he had a pretty good idea as to why. What the hell had his idiot CIA-partner been thinking? Bringing Miller, of all the agents in the world?

Sam backed away and carelessly but furiously tossed the stick aside. It crashed against the bench next to the mat. The look on her face was still murderous but he would have a better chance against her unarmed. In her current state of mind, with the blinding rage consuming every fiber of her being, anything that could act like a weapon was deadly in her hands. Even something as ordinary as a pencil.

She growled an inaudible curse under her breath, stalked over to the bench and sat down hard, crossing her arms while she glared at him. He shook his head wearily; she was acting more like a teenage girl whose boyfriend got stolen than an adult woman who was in a fake relationship.

"Done raging?" He grunted.

She huffed. _'Apparently not,'_ he concluded.

Not wanting to risk life and limb for the CIA-nerd, he decided to call it a day: "Be out in five, or you can walk home."

The idea seemed appealing; the long walk might give her the time to cool off, but it could also sort the opposite effect, and she would be angrier than ever before. He decided to take the safest option.

"Fine," she hissed as she got up to clear away the practice materials and gather her things.

"Walker, wait!" He barked when a better idea popped up in his head as he eyed the heavy bags.

* * *

Her knuckles were sore and raw, and her shins and feet were in no better condition, but she had managed to blow off a lot of excessive aggressive energy working on the heavy bag. At least now her muscles trembled with exhaustion and no longer with restrained rage.

Fresh from a shower and ready for bed, she looked around for a book to read. Her mind was still in a tailspin from being confronted with Chuck's double standards like that. A good book was what she needed to take her mind off other things, that is if she could find one and then keep focus on it.

Her cell phone chimed, causing her to frown confused. Curiosity took over and she looked at the display. She rolled her eyes when it was from Chuck. Now he remembered that he had a responsibility for her? She deleted it without reading.

In hindsight that was a mistake, because curiosity was now gnawing at her mind. She slipped into a sweater, sweat pants and sneakers before climbing out the window. Bryce was still up and she did not feel like explaining herself.

He was sitting on the edge of the fountain. A warm smile formed on his face when he caught sight of her, and she rolled her eyes again.

"Thanks for meeting me," he said in a soft voice.

Deciding the text had most likely been a request to come and have a talk, she stopped a few feet away from him and crossed her arms demonstratively.

"I owe you an explanation," he continued in the same voice. "Walk with me?"

She raised her eyebrow sardonically but kept quiet all the same. They walked out of the courtyard in silence and a few yards from the gate he took a deep breath and began: "I needed to take care of a few things. Of national importance."

"I am of national importance," she reminded him in an unfriendly tone.

He nodded slowly: "You are... And so am I."

A deep confusion sank in, but she managed to mask it with indifference.

"The Intersect-file Zondra sent you?" He paused for a moment. "It was meant to go into my head."

A few pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Off things that now started to make sense.

"I should start at the beginning," he said while they walked down the street towards Echo Park Lake. "I was recruited into the CIA at Stanford because of my retention rate of subliminal images. I was the perfect candidate for Project Omaha. With my personal life going nowhere, I wanted to make a difference in the world, so I agreed."

She could tell that he was picking his words carefully, and since she had yet to flash on anything he had said so far, he was trying to avoid triggering one. A weird feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. It could not be, could it?

"Project Omaha was aimed at developing the perfect soldier for the military, and the perfect operative for the agencies. With my natural dislike of weapons, the CIA argued that my 'education' should be that of a spy. I had other skills they could use and justify, so I would not be a complete waste of time and money in case the project would turn out a bust."

"You're an Intersect," she concluded, unsure whether to feel betrayed, angry or sympathy.

"Suppressed," he sighed. "The last update, it did not take as it should have. It was glitchy in more ways than we had anticipated, so we went back to the basics and started on the new one. The one Zondra so helpfully sent to you."

Zondra had been CIA, Chuck was CIA. Suddenly she needed to know.

"I know that you and Zondra worked together, but how close were you two exactly?"

"Zondra was my partner on a few missions when the Intersect was active, but we were never more than friends, if that's what you're asking. We'd grab a beer after a hard mission and talk about it. Get it out around someone who saw the same things."

Though the anger had not completely subsided yet, there was a sense of relief coming over her; at least Chuck had not fallen victim to that bitch.

"But why are you telling me this now? Why not wait until tomorrow?"

He stopped walking and turned to face her: "Because I owed you at least one explanation."

"It explains nothing, Chuck. You left me on my own, and without Casey, I'd have been a sitting duck," she growled as her temper began to rise again.

His luck was that she was too tired to physically act on her anger. It was not a sufficient explanation, far from it actually. She could tell that he was thinking about his next words as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, which was either a poor fish impersonation or a sign that he was not sure what to say.

"You're right," he finally agreed. "Tomorrow we'll get a mission, where Carina and I will take the lead, and you and Casey will have a supporting role... I wanted to tell you about the Intersect upfront, instead of letting you figure it out by what the bosses will say tomorrow... I needed clearance for this, from the top because of national security... Telling you without it... Best case scenario would have been being dropped in a bunker... There were other matters I needed to tend as well, but I can't say anything about those... Not yet."

"Well, isn't that mighty decent of you?" She stated, making sure that the sarcasm was not lost him,while trying to keep her anger from reaching boiling point for a second time that night.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he said genuinely.

The silence falling between them was heavy and no less awkward than if they had been on good terms, she realized. Minutes went by as they simply stood there, on the side of the road. She had no idea what to say or what to think.

"Trust me, Sam," it sounded like he was pleading with her, almost.

"You're asking a lot, Chuck," she said in a harsh voice. "On blind faith. With all the secrets and lies, mirrors and smoke screens," she grumbled. "I... I need to think on this."

His answer was a single nod, and she got the impression that he understood and would give her the time and space. She realized that maybe any other person would be impressed by his honesty.

"Let's head back. Work and a briefing tomorrow," he said with a hesitant smile.

They walked back to the apartment complex in silence. Her conflicting thoughts consumed her. She wanted to trust him, but he had proven that she should not, despite the fact that she-. She cut off the thought before it was finished. If she allowed her mind to go there, it would complicate matters even more. He wanted to maintain a professional relationship, in spite of their cover, and she would go along with it.

* * *

Sleep had eluded her once more and it had taken her more coffee than usual to finally feel awake enough to deal with the new day. With hardly any sleep, she had been happy with Casey's foresight to give her today off from training.

Shortly after her alarm had gone off, she had received a text message from Chuck, which had been cause enough to roll her eyes again, to meet him out in the courtyard in thirty minutes. Now she stood waiting by the fountain. The clicking of heels on tiles drew her attention and she turned to see the leggy redhead enter the courtyard. Immediately her hackles went up.

"Sam, right?" The redhead asked with a measured smile.

"Hmm-mmm."

The redhead appeared to be amused by her lack of a real response and let her smile grow.

"So you're the new gal? Chuckie told me that you're an analyst."

"Hmm-mmm."

She tried to read Carina, but there was nothing she could work with. Except that the DEA-agent was scantily clad and looked like an expensive hooker in her navy business suit with miniskirt. Nevertheless looks could be deceiving,and she was not going to make the same mistake as she had with Chuck. She was not going to be that trusting around agents of the agencies that so far had done nothing more than ruin her life,and keep in her in a constant state of fear and paranoia.

A malicious smile replaced the pleasant one on the redhead's face: "So... What are you analyzing? Chuckie?"

She snorted haughtily before shaking her head.

"I know it's supposed to be a cover, but," Carina did not relent.

"But nothing," she snapped. "We work together, that's all."

"Touchy," the redhead smirked. "Well, it's good to know it's nothing more. It will make this mission a lot easier," she added cryptically.

* * *

She managed to keep a straight face during the mission briefing as she watched dark clouds pack together over her appointed rival's head. Obviously things were not going as Sam had hoped for, and she would take great delight in making the dorky woman sweat.

Because of the risks involved, Sam had been assigned a supporting role, along with Casey. No one knew what La Ciudad looked like. The man, or woman, she did not discriminate, was a ghost.

"So we're clear on the assignments?" General Beckman asked from the TV-screen.

"Yes, ma'am," Casey was the first to answer.

A cruel smile appeared on her face when she looked from Sam to Chuck and acted on the first play that came to mind. Two steps and she had draped herself around her pretend husband, who looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Aw, don't be like that, Mr. Anderson," she laughed while she ruffled Chuck's hair at the back of his head, the grunts of disgust from both Casey and Sam not lost on her.

"Carina," he sighed, shaking his head as he disentangled from her arms. "Save it for tomorrow night."

"Why, sweetie? It's been a while since I did a cover mission like this, so I'm a little rusty," she said with a faux pout.

"Save it," he muttered, moving to a safe distance.

'Hmm, interesting,' she noted in thoughts when she caught the quick glance Chuck sent Sam.

This was certainly something she could use to her amusement. It was bidirectional, something she had expected yesterday but only saw it confirmed now.

"Agent Miller, try to stick with the script this time. We all know you like to improvise, but that makes you a liability in this mission," Director Graham remarked.

She faked a bored yawn. There was absolutely nothing fun about following script. At least improvising would liven up the party. Besides it would not be the first time she would say one thing and do the complete opposite. If she was right with her suspicions, there would be trouble,and she loved trouble.

"Miss Miller, can you step outside for a while?" Director Graham asked her.

"Why?" She countered.

"Because the next part of the briefing is above your pay-grade," the CIA-director grumbled. "You'd need special clearance for it."

"Fine," she muttered annoyed and took her leave.

* * *

"As you might have suspected, Major, agent Bartowski is not simply an agent or analyst."

He snorted with contempt and swallowed an insult, convinced that their superiors would not appreciate the sentiment.

"As part of the Omaha Project, Bartowski volunteered to be a test subject for the Intersect. Without the ability to remove the program entirely, it has been put in suppression. The Intersect Agent Rizzo so carelessly sent to the asset was intended for Bartowski."

"In short, he is an Intersect," he said through gritted teeth, keeping an eye on the asset to gauge her reaction.

She was not the least bit surprised, and it pissed him off. It meant that she knew already. He started to feel like the guy that always gets picked last. Team Sam's little fat kid, and it was adding to his growing rage. The two superiors nodded in unison.

"Just not a working one," General Beckman explained.

So his suspicions were right. What he had seen when the CIA-agent had met Doctor Zarnow, had been a flash. The headache, the conviction that Zarnow was evil. Anger raced through his veins. The idiot was supposed to be his partner, even if he was of another Agency, and partnerships were built on trust. Sure, he thought that Bartowski was a moron, an idiot, a completely incompetent ass and whatever other insult he had given him in thought and word, but it did not change the fact that his so-called partner had not trusted him enough to tell him himself. For a man with his sense of honor and duty, that did not go down well. At all.

"You little," he growled barely able to control his rage, grabbing Chuck by his tie and yanking him towards him.

"Major Casey, let go of Agent Bartowski right this instant!" General Beckman barked beyond annoyed.

With a dark grunt, he pushed the other agent away from him. Oh, he would so love to kill the little sneak! The feeling so overwhelming, so present that he could almost taste it. To see the life light go out in those supposedly innocent eyes, he growled with delight at the fantasy.

"Thank you," Director Graham said.

He got in Chuck's face again: "If it weren't for your status, I'd kill you," he growled furiously. "But it doesn't mean I can't do this."

With lightning speed, he had the CIA-nerd in a headlock, slowly increasing the pressure to cut off the air supply. Chuck gurgled and struggled for a short while, before he surprised him with a counter-move which broke the headlock and had them both ending up on their backs on the floor.

"Huh!" He grunted amused, the tiniest bit impressed that the moron was not entirely defenseless after all.

"Are you two done?" The General snarled. "This is not kindergarten!"

Chuck was the first to get to his feet and stood holding out his hand to him. It was a peace offering. One he had to take if he wanted to stay assigned to his mission, he was well aware of that. He let Bartowski help him up, only to give him a light jab under the ribs as a thank you.

"Before you decide to kill your partner, Agent Casey," the Director cut in. "It was not his decision to make. The clearance had to come from way up top."

"'Cause that makes it better," He grunted, still annoyed but a little more understanding as to why his partner had not come clean in the first place.

* * *

A cocktail waitress? She rolled her eyes at her reflection in the mirror. At least it was not as provocative as it would have been if she had gotten the role she had secretly hoped for. The part that had gone to that redhead who had immediately wrapped herself around Chuck.

In spite of its dangers, this was supposed to be a watch-and-learn mission for her, as everyone was so keen to remind her of. As the mission came closer and closer, she had started to feel more and more nervous, and with that she had become increasingly clumsy.

Oh, this was going to be a disaster, she was sure of it. As a cocktail waitress she would walk around and flash on potential threats. At least that was the idea, but she was unsure if she could pull it off. There was a better chance that she would do something utterly stupid like drop a full tray or an expensive bottle of wine to draw unwanted attention to her, and then what?

She glanced at her reflection once more, shook her head in misery,and let out the deep breath she had been holding while her mind had taken her for a spin. Was she fooling herself? Other than that she wanted to be able to defend herself in case there was no one to rescue, why was she really doing this? Unwilling to acknowledge the answer, she turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom.

Casey was waiting for her. He would be tending the bar tonight while Chuck and Carina would work the room,and try to get La Ciudad to step out of cover. That was the plan.

"Ready?" The NSA-agent asked gruffly, not even giving her a second look.

She answered with a single nod, though she was far from ready. Already she felt exposed and she had not even begun her 'shift'. This was really going to be complete disaster.

"Just serve the drinks, watch and come to me if you flash, got it?" Casey instructed her.

"Got it."

Casey was not the coddling kind, which indirectly added to her increasing nervousness, so she scanned the lobby for the one person who might be able to put her at ease. A strong, sharp stab of emotion pierced her when she caught sight of him, with that obnoxious tart hanging on his arm as a gaudy accessory.

"Get your head in the game, Walker," Casey growled as he marched towards the bar.

She was happy for the comfortable shoes she was allowed to wear because she could easily keep up with him now.

"Scan the room," he told her while she waited at the bar for the first tray to be loaded with glasses of champagne. "See if you flash on anyone already."

Thankful she was not holding anything yet, she did as she was told, but the signs of a coming flash did not present themselves. She wondered how she was able to flash without causing a scene one way or another.

"Nothing."

"Yet," he reminded her. "There you go," he said while he held out the full tray to her.


	13. Chapter 13: Versus Roxanne

**A/N:** This was a pretty hard chapter to write, I have to admit. In the process I went through a lot of ideas written and scratched since they wouldn't work in the bigger picture. It did lead to getting a good head start for Chapter 14 though, and I think that chapter will be the one Charah fans have been looking forward too, at least for now... Okay, okay, I'm being mean by teasing like that *insert demonic laughter* I can only hope that I will do it justice, :-).

A huge thank you to all you awesome people for reading and reviewing! And a warm welcome to people who have started to follow this story!

pizza: I always thought that Carina was underused in the show. She could've caused a truckload of interesting problems for Team Bartowski, which is why I brought her in as a more leading character this soon. And Bryce, he'll get his spotlight again.

uplink2: I get where you're coming from with the name, but since Sarah did give it as her birth name in that specific episode, I went with it. I hated the whole Shaw story arc and the diminishing of Sarah's character that came with it, though Shaw will make an appearance sometime in the near future and we'll be done with him. No spoilers there though. As for Bryce, he'll start to have a more substantial role as the story continues, and should be back as a pov in Chapter 14.

Jon: Two dance partners for Chuck? Well, that should be answered in this chapter ;-) And yes, Casey was a bit of a bully in the last chapter, but there's an explanation for it.

Jimmy 144: Lol!

Nomadic Nerd: To be honest, I always thought that Chuck accepted his Intersect fate a little too easily. Sure he resisted from time to time, but most of the time he just went along with everything that was imposed on him. Or at least that's how it appeared to me. I wanted Sam to be a little more resisting so she's pissed off about a lot of things, but what that is, will be tended to in Chapter 14, ;-P

As always, reviews are most welcome and very much appreciated... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'Chuck'.

* * *

He groaned barely audible; Carina was unrelenting in her gestures of affection, and there was nothing he could do about it. Either he would blow their cover, and with that their mission, or she would take it as a hint to continue. Smoking out and catching La Ciudad had the highest priority, so all he could do was suffer in silence. Though he had to give it to Carina: so far she had stuck to the script, but given her reputation he wondered how long it would last.

Technically he had nothing to complain about, a beautiful woman like Carina wrapped around him did flatter his ego, but she was laying it on thick. Too thick, if you asked him, but that was Carina in a nutshell.

He caught sight of Sam, who was making another round with a tray full with glasses of champagne. She moved quite graciously, something he had not really expected, with a polite smile on her face. A sad smile appeared on his face instead. Why was she so very angry with him?

Sure he had been stupid and Ellie had made sure that he had understood that bringing home another woman, even if she was just a colleague, was most definitely not the best way to impress his girlfriend. He got that, but it had to be more than that, and whatever if was, he could not right the wrongs if he had no idea what the wrongs were.

Maybe he could talk her after the mission? Or maybe tomorrow? Or-

"Chuckie, darling," Carina derailed his train of thoughts. "Stop checking out that waitress," she added in a haughty tone, loud enough to draw the attention of some bystanders.

"Carina," he sighed.

Feeling a blush creep up his neck, he shook his head slowly and tried to come up with the right words, but all he could do was stare at his partner in some disbelief. He had not really been checking out Sam, had he? Again he shook his head; his thoughts had taken over, and the fact that he had been looking in Sam's direction had been a mere coincidence.

* * *

The first hour of her shift had been uneventful at best. As to be expected the high-profile guests would be fashionably late, and the ones who were already there were few and widespread. In a way it meant that she was lucky, since she was supposed to flash and those were disabling and disorientating. Plus they gave her a weird nagging headache.

With no flashes so far and few guests to tend to, she leaned back near the bar and watched Chuck and the redhead get into what appeared a small argument.

"Stand up straight, Walker," Casey instructed her, holding a cloth out to her.

She took it and looked at him confused.

"If you've got nothing to do, you better give me a hand. Those glasses don't shine themselves. First rule in jobs like this one: always look busy," he explained to her. "It's bad for business if the waiting staff looks bored out of their mind."

"I got it," she nodded while she picked up the first glass.

She worked on the glasses in silence for a few minutes while Casey tended to a few guests at the bar. In an odd way, doing a simple menial chore like this appealed to her calm center. It was a meaningless job, mind-numbing actually, but it gave her time to slow down and examine her state of mind.

She had not really been herself as of late. Not since Bryce had found her on the floor. Contrary to her own belief, she had let rage and frustration take over, dictate her mood and behavior. It was not like her to be so reared. Usually she would sit down and study the problem before letting emotions take over. Then again, feelings were not her thing, especially when it came down to talking about them.

All the anger and frustration she had felt these past few days, it had been an accumulation of a lot of things. Events and emotions, and this time around she owed an explanation to Chuck, who wrongly had become the representation of all that was wrong in her life today. Only a small part had actually been his fault, and for the most part all he had done was try and come up with ways to help her.

She nodded for no apparent reason than agreeing with herself that she would explain and apologize to Chuck the first real chance she would get. Whether that be tonight or tomorrow.

* * *

She smiled mischievously. It was so very easy for her to embarrass him and rattle his cage. Especially, since she had discovered that the leggy, coppery-blond was a bit of a hot button for him. Oh yes, it was so very easy. Nevertheless she was not out to get either of them, just give them a subtle nudge in the right direction. With style, of course.

Her head shot up when she recognized the music and her mischievous smile widened. This was perfect. A saucy tango set to an instrumental version of Tango de Roxanne, from the movie Moulin Rouge. She had to convince Chuck, but the odds were not impossible.

She quickly moved to his side and grabbed him by the tie: "Dance with me, Chuckie," she whispered in his ear. "You owe me."

"Eh, I owe you?" He sounded confused.

She glanced at Sam, a smirk gracing her face.

"You will," she breathed. "Com'on, Chuck. Let's see if all that CIA training has paid off."

He grunted annoyed, much to her amusement. Yet he still took his jacket off, handed it to the person closest to him and rolled up his sleeves. She motioned him to come closer, and winced slightly when he took strong hold of her hands in a first tango position. The harsh expression on his face, his stance, it was not his first tango. She was impressed, and that was not something that happened often.

"Well, I see the taxpayer money was not wasted on you,"she whispered in his ear as he pulled her close.

"You do know that Roxanne was a prostitute, right?" He asked in a soft voice while he ran his fingers up her upper arms.

"Lines like 'you don't have to sell your body to the night' are quite the clues, but I won't judge," she smiled seductively. "I'm sure I could teach her a thing or two. Or you, for that matter," she said, moving in for a kiss but stopping at less than an inch from his mouth.

"Ha, not interested," he whispered before he pushed her away in a twirl. "But I'm impressed that you know the lyrics," he added in a little louder voice as he pulled her towards him again.

"You don't know what you're missing, Chuckie," she grinned after she came back in front of him.

"Which makes me a member of a very select group, I'm sure."

"Touché," she laughed.

She loved this kind of banter with him. Having worked with him on a few cases in the past, she knew what she could expect of him. Witty remarks, a few accusations when she would not follow the script, but he always had her back. Of all the temporary partners she had worked with, he had to be her favorite. Which was another reason as to why she was willing to help out.

"Attention," he warned her.

She hooked her right leg around his thighs and pressed her left knee into his right thigh,before he circled around and around.

The song was drawing to a close and she decided to heat things up even more. Undoing his tie and the top buttons of his dress shirt before kissing his neck, she giggled when he nearly dropped her out of the lift: "Gotta sell it, Chuckie."

* * *

She desperately tried not to look in their direction, but just like everyone else present, her gaze was drawn to the couple on the dance floor. With her mouth agape, all she could do was stare at them. Sizzling, sexy, and they were both selling it. If she had not known better, she could have sworn she was watching lovers entangled in a heated foreplay. She was in awe by how graciously the two spies moved, as if they had done nothing else in their lives than work on this tango, made to look effortless.

Despite her deeper emotions slowly reaching boiling point, she had to be impressed by the fact that they did not trip over each other, given the intricacy of their tango.

_'Forget making amends,'_ her mind told her when a sharp stab of jealousy pierced her heart and soul.

"Hey, quit screwing around, Walker. Finish your round," Casey came in over the ear-piece. "See if you flash."

She looked over her shoulder towards the bar where Casey stood glaring at her and gave him a small nod in confirmation,before turning her attention back to the task at hand. For no more than ten seconds she managed to keep her focus, but then was drawn back to watching Chuck and Carina.

"Walker!" Casey barked in her ear, causing her to nearly drop the tray with glasses of champagne.

"Damnit," she hissed through gritted teeth, earning a curious look from one of the guests closest to her which she answered with a polite, apologetic smile. "Sorry."

* * *

With Carina finally leaving his side to work the room, he turned to the masterpiece of the art auction. At least that was what it was supposed to be, but he knew better. The painting, though considered real, had no real value, not to an arms dealer anyway. It was the frame that should draw La Ciudad out. The NSA and CIA had increased the back-channel chatter on it to bait him or her.

"Beautiful painting," a female voice with a thick Hispanic accent said behind him.

"What's that?"

"The painting?"

"It definitely has a quality about it, not like his 'San Giorgio Twilight' or 'Woman with a Parasol'," he had to draw knowledge from his high school art history classes.

"What?"

"You have no idea what I'm talking about," he stated, somewhat relieved that the woman was not knowledgeable on art, and that he did not have to keep up the appearance of connoisseur.

"Sorry," she said with a slight smile, extending her hand. "I'm Malena."

"Charles Anderson, but you can call me Chuck," he introduced himself in a most charming manner, pressing a kiss on the back of her extended hand.

"So you don't like the painting?"

"I do, but it's rather boring. Still, it's a Monet, and worth it's money. Especially the frame is unique."

"I see."

Sam came up at his side with a half empty tray and smiled politely. She had the role of waitress down and he was sure that Casey had instructed her well.

"Champagne?" He asked Malena.

"Sure, yeah," the woman answered with a smile that did not reach her eyes.

_'She's hiding something,'_ he concluded while they both turned to the waitress to take a glass from the tray. After that it all went sideways in a matter of seconds when he saw the signs of a flash and quickly grabbed the tray before Sam could drop it. She stumbled back a little, and he hoped Casey would pick up his hand signal. The big agent immediately left his spot and came over.

"What's wrong with her?" Malena asked, sounding intrigued and spooked at the same time.

He had to think on his feet. How could he cover this up without raising suspicion? The flash had to be connected to his conversation partner. An idea came to mind. He placed the tray on the nearest table, went back to Sam and made a show of sniffing around her.

"Drunk, I fear," he answered, waving his hand near his nose as he pretended to get rid of the alcohol stench.

* * *

"Haven't you been paying attention, good man?" Chuck asked with disdain when he reached them. "She's clearly drunk as a skunk."

"I'm so sorry, ma'am, sir," he said with an apologetic smile. "Good staff is hard to find these days."

He wrapped a hand firmly around Sam's upper arm to drag her off but not before he shot a questioning look at his partner. Chuck gave a confirming nod.

"It's fine," the brunette said with a thick accent.

"Come along," he pretended to be annoyed with his help, dragging her towards the bar. "This is the last time I hire you."

"It's her," Sam breathed when they left hearing distance. "The scar on her neck... La Ciudad... It's her."

He looked back at Chuck before he scanned the room for Carina. She was occupied with what could be identified as a goon. It brought a smile to his face; Carina was a loose cannon, but she did sense things like no other agent he had known. Mostly when to start trouble, but sometimes she was right on the money.

His eyes came back to his partner. After their little scuffle yesterday, he had found a new respect for the CIA-nerd. The kid was not as helpless as he appeared to be, and with his ability to come up with last-minute plans, he was certain that Chuck already had come up with a plan to play this out.

He had been downright furious for being the last one to know, and had directed the most immediate anger at Bartowski, but after cooling down he had come to realize it had been out of the nerd's hands. Still, it was not enough to warrant an apology from him. That would require an extreme out-of-hand situation, and the little wrestling was no such thing.

Chuck gave him another nod and his eyes traveled down to see the hand signal. Time to call in the cavalry. La Ciudad had not become the world's most dangerous and elusive weapons dealer by being careless.

"Go to the kitchen and stay there," he instructed her when he gave her a little push in the right direction.

She muttered a curse of protest under her breath, causing him to grunt: "Now, Walker!"

If anything were to happen to the Intersect, there would be so much red tape, it would be enough to sink a star-cruiser. He watched her retreat to the kitchen and went back to his spot behind the bar. Typing the message with half an eye on the crowd for the second goon, he gave the final instructions to the SWAT team on standby. Maybe it would not be necessary,but he liked to have a backup plan in case things went south in the blink of an eye.

* * *

"I have to say, Mr. Anderson-"

"Please, call me Chuck," he insisted with a friendly smile.

"Okay, Chuck. I have to say that that tango was most impressive**.**" Malena returned his smile.

"My wife and I are dance instructors," he gave the first explanation that came to mind, surprising even himself with it.

"I see," she nodded.

He was happy that he had worked out a hand signal system with Casey and Carina in case there could be no verbal confirmation of their target. At least now he knew who he was dealing with; La Ciudad, who surprisingly turned out to be a woman.

"We lived in Buenos Aires for over a year to study the real tango," he added another lie.

"I love a good tango," she said with some nostalgia to her voice.

Only now he noticed the notes of another tango.

"Sweet and a little aggressive," she continued while he took her glass away, and placed it on the nearest table along with his.

She had just handed him the last piece of information to form a plan that would work with minimal risk. This time he would have to leave his jacket on. There was no chance to hide the zip-tie he had stashed in the inside pocket of his jacket on his person.

He held out his hand to her in a silent order, and she reacted with an amused smile: "You did study it, Chuck. How does your wife feel about this?"

"Dance instructors," he reminded her. "She's used to seeing me dance with other women."

* * *

_'God! Again?'_ She thought bitterly when she looked at the scene unfolding on the dance floor.

She had pushed the door to the kitchen open wide enough to see what was going on. Casey and Carina were nowhere in sight so she assumed that they had taken care of the two huge guys who had escorted the brunette, she had identified as La Ciudad.

She rubbed the center of her forehead with her index and middle finger, and sighed. Did she even have a chance? Bryce teased her with her two left feet on occasion, though she did have a good feeling for rhythm. Not that it stopped her from tripping over her own feet.

An idea popped into her mind. It brought a smile to her face. If she could learn how to fight and defend herself, maybe she could learn to dance too? She had the perfect victim to take lessons with her in mind: Bryce. Surely he would jump on the opportunity to do something with her, now that she would have less time for him with all the things going on in her life. It should make up for something.

Perhaps next time a mission like this would come their way, she would be the one dancing with Chuck? Her smile widened at the prospect. Feeling less useless and less envious – that was the right word for it, she decided -, she turned her attention back to the main room, to the tangoing couple. So far it appeared to calm and peaceful, but recent events had taught her that could change at the drop of a hat.

* * *

A quick scan of the room told him that Carina and Casey had been able to successfully remove La Ciudad's assumed henchmen and with the tango coming to an end, it was time to play out the last part of the plan, the dip-drop-arrest. He smirked at the name he had come up for it. If he planned it carefully, the risks involved were minimal.

He dipped her in the end pose and was about to let her drop to get the upper hand when he felt something hard press into the soft flesh underneath his ribcage.

"I would not do that," she warned him.

He glanced down to see her holding a small handgun.

"You're going to pull me up and we'll walk out of here, Mr. Anderson, or should I say Agent Carmichael."

It did surprise that she knew his spy alias, but he managed to keep it from showing on his face.

"Do you think me a fool? I didn't get to where I am today by being careless."

Without Carina and Casey to come to his rescue soon, he had no other option than to cooperate with the arms dealer. Death was an occupational hazard, and one he would like to avoid for as long as possible. There was no point in trying to be a hero if the odds were against him. He pulled her up carefully, not knowing if she had an itchy trigger finger.

"Move," she told him, nodding towards the exit.

* * *

The only thing left was for Chuck to apprehend the woman. She saw Chuck glance around. The agitated manner sent up a red flag instantly, and she pushed the door open a little more for a better view. The odd positioning, the slight raise of his hands, La Ciudad had made him.

Her eyes searched for any sign of the two seasoned agents, but there was no sight of either Carina and Casey. La Ciudad was a coldblooded killer who took pleasure in killing any potential witness, let alone any true witness. Maybe it was nothing Chuck could not deal with, but he was in trouble and she was the only one left to help him.

She looked around the kitchen and saw an empty tray: "That could work," she muttered as a plan slowly started to form in her mind.

After stashing the tray under her arm, she sauntered out into the main room, keeping an eye on her targets. She had to wait before she could take action so she simply trailed at a safe distance. They had reached a nearly deserted corridor leading to the elevators. Her heart was racing, thumping loudly in her chest, as adrenaline coursed through her body. This was it. If she wanted to save Chuck, she had to act.

A few big paces had her come up behind the deadly brunette fast. She took a sturdy hold of the tray, swung it back and smacked the woman across the upper back: "Down you go," she commented with a satisfactory smile.

It felt quite liberating, after all she had to endure this evening, to see that woman go down face first. A gun clattered to the floor and slipped out of reach. Chuck immediately sprang into action and pressed a knee firmly on La Ciudad's spine while he reached inside his jacket and took out a zip-tie.

"You are under arrest on possession of illegal and/or stolen weapons, illegal trafficking of contraband weapons and/or ammunition, multiple counts of murder, multiple counts of assault and battery, and money laundering," he summarized, grabbing the woman's hands, pulling them behind her back and zip-tying them.

"¡Maldita sea! Vete al infierno, imbécil!" The brunette seethed while she struggled against the restraints.

He turned his head a little to look at her: "Nice work," he smiled before he gave her a thumbs up.

She knew that he was just being polite, because the smile never reached his eyes, and she had a pretty good idea as to why: no matter what she would do, she would always be the asset and she had put herself in harm's way to save him. Though it was quite discouraging, it would not keep her from working towards becoming a real spy, if only because they-

"Go find Casey or Carina," he instructed her with another smile, not moving from his kneeling position to keep their captive from escaping.

She gave him a nod and went to look for the other agents, bumping into Carina as the redhead re-entered the lobby.


	14. Chapter 14: Versus the Park Bench

**A/N:** Like I wrote in the author's notes of Chapter 13, I got a head start for Chapter 14, but it was very choppy and mostly bits n' pieces, a sentence here and there. But after rewriting and reworking what I had, the chapter got done 2 days ahead of the set schedule, which is pretty standard by now.

An exception to my own set rule of keeping the word count between 3,000 and 4,000 words, this chapter went well over the limit, closing in on 5,000 words, but I didn't want to push back the very scene this chapter was built around to the next chapter.

Like I promised in the A/N of the last chapter, this chapter will have some long awaited Charah, ;-).

Again a huge, huge thank you to all the readers and the reviewers! And to the people who have started following this story recently: welcome.

Nomadic Nerd: Thanks. And now with this chapter written and posted, I am really starting to wonder who your spy is, lol. Gotta ask: how much are you paying my ghost-reader? ;-P As I've said it before, I think she was greatly underused in the series. But the ff-'verse is making up for it big time.

thaolu9: Lol, you were a little ahead of time, but it is quite the compliment to know that there are readers who can't wait for the next chapter, so thank you :-D. I try to post a new chapter once a week, but I do get ahead of schedule most of the time, resulting in early publishing.

Jon: Thanks, :-). Everybody gets to teach Sam/Sarah something, and when I picked Bryce as her potential dance partner, I had something Yvonne Strahovski said about them both coming from a dance background in the back of my mind ;-).

Molotov: Thank you for the explanation, it was very much appreciated. No worries about criticism: I can take it if it is indeed constructive.

In the last 2 reviews, you had a few valid points that I'll address without spoiling. Though I do use a general outline for the plot and subplots, following reviews I tend to stray a little from the main line, because I got new ideas or forgot something or haven't been all too clear on something. For example: I only just got to explaining why Carina's involved in missions in this chapter. It was planned sooner, but in the flow of the story it did not entirely fit where I had intended it to go first so the idea got pushed back.

As for Casey training Sam, it should be explained in a later chapter, but I can say that he was planning a crash course boot camp for Sam, within reasonable limits off course. Nevertheless I agree that it looks pretty brutal, so I pushed it back a little (bit much).

The choice to use 'Chief' I made after watching 24: LAD where Navarro gets addressed with Chief Navarro and saw it confirmed as a correct word to use after a little research on CIA stations and substations. So I assumed it was the correct title.

uplink2: Thank you. It's a big challenge to twist the canon to fit, but that's all part of the fun ;-).

Jimmy_144: Thanks :-).

fezzywhigg: Thanks, and you're right: the story is about Sam's development into Sarah, for the most part ;-). Nevertheless it's fun to include small side-stories that will tie in with the main story at some points.

As always, reviews are most welcome and very much appreciated... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'Chuck'.

* * *

The four of them stood looking at the TV screen where General Beckman and Director Graham had been joined by a third person, her boss, Administrator Lilliana Nicholson.

"Good work, team," General Beckman simply stated. "Capturing La Ciudad without it turning to a bloody chaos is an impressive feat."

"Thank you, ma'am," Casey was the first to respond.

She rolled her eyes and let a smirk appear on her face. Casey was always so correct. Her gaze drifted to the two other members of the team; they stood awkwardly together, slightly turned away from each other. _'Now what?'_ She thought.

So far her plan had seemed to work. Chuck had been uncomfortable and Sam had been jealous, which were two good signs, but the sign she was getting now was a bad one. Seriously, for a couple right for each other they sure had some issues.

"As was agreed with Administrator Nicholson," Director Graham began. "You have done your part in this trial cooperation, Agent Miller, without improvising. Which is commendable on its own. The next mission is one of the DEA's desk, so you will lead and the current team will be at your disposal."

"Thank you, Director," she smirked. "We picked up two new leads tonight. One Allan Watterman, suspected of insider trading and of having offshore accounts in the Caymans. Let's leave that one to the SEC, shall we... And Peyman Alahi."

She waited for it. Administrator Nicholson would be all over this person of interest in a matter of seconds.

"You mean," the Administrator said. "The Woolly Banker? We've been after him for a while now. What's he doing in Los Angeles? Last we heard he was in Asadabad."

"It might have to do with the Nadan-I-Noor diamond, ma'am. We know he acquired it some time ago and might now be looking for a way to offload it and cash in," she spoke her thoughts about the case at hand.

"What do we know about him?" General Beckman inquired interested.

"Financial backer of various Afghan opium cartels. Has a compound in Malibu amongst others. In possession of the Nadan-I-Noor diamond and is most likely trying to fund a weapons deal," Administrator Nicholson summarized. "Maybe with La Ciudad?"

"So if we snatch the diamond," she offered with an evil smile.

"His friends won't be happy," her boss finished.

"Interesting," she smirked as she tapped her index finger against her chin. "We'll take it."

Before there could be any protests, the Administrator cut in: "That's settled. You have your new mission, Agent Miller. As the lead in this, I expect you to make the DEA look their best, so no screwing around."

"Yes, ma'am," she was quick to agree.

"I mean it, Miller. I'm putting my neck out for you, given your reputation of recklessness. Screw this up and you'll be chained to a desk for the rest of your career. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly, Ma'am."

* * *

He looked at the lower right corner of his computer screen and heaved an annoyed sigh. It told him it was fourteen past one in the morning. Sam was not home yet.

He had heard her in the courtyard about an hour ago, but she had yet to come home. Raising his fingers to keep score he counted the number of dates she had been on with Ellie's brother. Along with the two dinners, only four times now.

She would not, would she? Before he would have been certain that she would not, but she had not been herself lately. She had not been the Sam he knew and loved like a sister. She had not been his Sam.

The most recent proof lay in the phone conversation earlier this evening when he had called her after the news broke that a very dangerous person had been apprehended at the Wilshire Grand. He had been worried about her, since she had told him that was where she was going tonight. Her tone of voice had been businesslike and he had not bought into her story.

Was she involved in something illegal? It did not make sense to him at all. He knew that he had been slacking in keeping her safe, figuring and hoping that she would come and talk to him eventually. That had not happened so far, and if things were as he feared they were, she was in over her head. Perhaps she would come to hate him for interfering with her life, but he had to help her before it was too late.

He heard the keys in the lock and quickly closed the lid of his laptop, looking up expectantly.

"Hey, Sam," he greeted when she came in.

She looked at him with a curious frown before tossing the keys on the side-table: "You didn't wait up for me, did you?" She asked, sounding a little annoyed.

"No. I was playing solitaire on my computer. Lost track of time... What time is it anyway?" He played the innocent card.

She snorted and shook her head: "Bryce. You're not fooling me."

"Fine," he sighed. "I was worried about you."

"I'm going to go to bed," she stated, looking at him pitifully before making her way to her room.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed once more. This had gone exactly not how he had wanted it to go. Assessing how much time she would need to get ready for bed, he decided on another tactic: the direct confrontation.

"What the?" He mumbled when he found her room to be deserted and the window on a crack.

This was even worse than he had initially thought.

* * *

After she had told her meddlesome best friend that she was going to bed and had gone to her room, she had decided now was a good enough time as ever to sort things out, so she had sent him a text. Now she sat waiting for him to show up.

She glanced up for a second when he sat down next to her on the park bench.

"Thanks for meeting me," she said with a hint of a smile.

"No problem... Your text said it was urgent," he smiled slightly lopsidedly.

"Not national security urgent," she smiled insecurely now.

"Good," he grinned. "I think we dealt with national security enough for one night, don't you agree?"

Unsure of how to answer that question, she stared at the water and tried to organize her thoughts again. It had all sounded so simple, so easy in her head when she had repeated all she wanted to say and clarify, but now that it came down to putting it into actual words- No, she had to bite the bullet, her inability to put emotions into words be damned!

"I need to apologize to you," she began with a certain hesitance. "I've been a total bitch and you got the brunt of it."

She could hear him take a deep breath but he did not react, which she took as a sign to continue.

"This isn't easy for me, Chuck, so please bear with me?"

"Okay," was all he said.

"These past few days haven't been fun, and I didn't like who I was. All this anger and frustration, it all came out, especially after I discovered how cathartic it was to put it into violence. Addictive in a way, but it made me lose sight of who I am."

She looked at him to gauge his reaction. So far he was looking at her with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

* * *

"So what brought this on?" He asked in a gentle voice, feeling that she needed to be encouraged to continue. "I mean. What got you so angry?"

"It's a sum of events and emotions, really," she answered. "You could say I've been bottling up quite a few things."

When she paused to ponder her words, he gave her the time and space to do so. There was a lot he wanted to say to her, to tell her, but either it was unwise or it could wait.

"First the bitch screws me over again. This time by sending me this Intersect, this gateway to a shady world of secrets and lies. From zero to hero overnight, without warning," she continued after a few minutes of silence. "Then the brother of one of my best friends shows up. He's nice and acts like a gentleman, turns out he's a spy looking for the Intersect," she taps against the side of her head. "Which has been conveniently stashed in here... Then the Hulk shows up, and, surprise, he's looking for me too, with the intention to drop me in a bunker or in general, whichever he was feeling like at that moment."

He had a feeling where she was going with this, the sarcasm not lost on him. _'Damnit, Zondra, what the hell have you done?' _He waited patiently as she took a deep breath.

"I know... I know that if you hadn't been there, I'd be staring at rubber walls or pushing up daisies."

"The Intersect would be quite ineffective if not out in the field," he offered with a gentle smile, dismissive of her covered gratitude, hoping that if he kept it all business it would be easier for her to continue.

* * *

Though she could agree with that assessment, it was not the incentive to continue she had been hoping for, but what did she expect? She had been horrible company the past few days, and he had been a good sport all the way, taking it as it came.

"It gets even better," she made no attempt to hide the sarcasm from her voice. "Because of my value, those two get assigned as my protective detail and the nice guy gets to play the role of my boyfriend. He tells me that I shouldn't say anything to my friends to keep them safe, so that means I'm constantly lying to my best friends because I can't tell them anything. Stuck into a lie of a relationship-"

"I'm sorry, Sam," he interjected in a sincere voice.

She raised her hand to stop him. As much as the sentiment was appreciated, and maybe she should acknowledge it, she had to keep going before she would all her verbal courage: "My hopes go up when they tell me that there's chance the damn thing can be removed. The doc turns out traitor, so no go and things stay as is. Then the supposed boyfriend disappears for days on end, ignores any attempt on my part to connect and leaves me hanging in the wind-"

"I'm so sorry about that," he cut in with an authoritative voice, which irked her. "I know the excuse was insufficient. That you need more from me, but I can't... Not at this moment in time... All I can say is that I acted like a real asshole, and you didn't deserve that. You don't deserve any of this."

She bit her thumb nail and looked at him. He almost looked pained by the fact he could not tell her, by the restrictions placed by the higher ups most likely. That he would need authorization from the top to tell her what she deserved but was not allowed to know.

A long silence fell between them, in which she tried to muster as much courage as she could to continue.

"Talk to me, Sam," he said in a soft voice as if he knew she needed a little nudge to continue.

She was not done with her explanation yet. They both knew it.

"I hate to sit and watch and do nothing," she began again. "I hate feeling helpless, useless, and with the so-called boyfriend out of town, I turned to Casey for help. He gets me in touch with all my anger, and I learn how great it feels to give way to rage. Consumed by it, I fail to see how it starts to affect me in daily life."

She looked towards the fountain again, pulling her thoughts together. This was it, the final stretch. She only had to push herself a little more. _'Why am I doing this again?'_ She had to remind herself.

_'Because it's unhealthy not to.'_

"So the asshole returns, with a colleague who looks like an overpriced call-girl more than a real Agent, and he acts like he hasn't been ignoring me, saving the very best part for last. He drops the bomb on me: he's an Intersect too, suppressed but still, and the one intended for the last update. Not a word to let me know that he knew how it was. I get that he was ordered not to, but it doesn't make it any easier... To know that someone else knew how I felt, or better, what I feel, and he said nothing," she looked at him. "Really, I get it. You were under orders not to. Still it would've been nice to know that I wasn't the only one sooner."

He kept quiet. She took a deep breath to still her emotions, her hammering heart, hoping it would relieve some of the headache that had been building during her explanation.

"All that accumulated, got me angrier than ever before, turned me into an enforcer of sorts... It's no excuse for my piss-poor behavior, but an explanation," she concluded.

"Thank you," he said with a soft voice.

"The apology is... that I took everything together and took it out on you, even if you were to blame for only a small part of it. The saying my feelings part, I was never good at it, but in this case I owed it to you."

She looked at him expectantly as he kept quiet. For a second time in no more than a few minutes, it felt like she had fallen short, but this was the best she could do, given her inabilities and the circumstances. Seconds turned into minutes and she began to get nervous.

"I get it," he finally said, accompanied by a sigh. "So, I guess, we got off on the wrong foot, but maybe we can start anew?" He offered with a radiant grin before he extended his hand to her. "Hi, I'm Chuck, Ellie's idiot little brother."

An overwhelming urge to giggle overtook her suddenly. It was just so silly. He was just so silly. She regained some of her composure before she bumped shoulders with him.

"Sarah Walker," she smirked, taking his hand in hers and giving it a hearty shake.

* * *

After he discovered that she was gone, he had quickly slipped on a jacket and rushed out of the apartment, only to nearly bump into Ellie's little brother when he came out of Casey's apartment. Hiding behind the planters so Chuck would not see him, he concluded that his best shot at finding his missing friend was to follow him at a safe distance, undetected.

Now he cursed inwardly; it was disappointing that the surroundings kept him from getting within earshot. He had never seen Sam talk so much and his curiosity was reaching unbearable levels, but he had to stay put. Still it was another thing he would chalk up to her unusual behavior. If he had believed in hostile aliens, he would have been certain she had been taken over by one by now.

_'Why would she meet with him after she spent the evening at some fancy thing at the Wilshire Grand, with him?'_ He asked himself in thoughts as it made no sense at all.

Something that kept the middle of a gasp of surprise and a groan of displeasure escaped him when he saw her bump shoulders with Ellie's brother. He knew her, and knew that this was her testing the water.

His best friend was quite romantically stunted, a large part to be attributed to his meddling, he was aware of that. But she had been his best friend for two decades, the first friend he had made after his parents and him had moved to California from Connecticut. She was his chosen sister and very early on in their teenage years he had decided that he would keep her safe from the dogs boys and men could be.

Thus he had caused a break-up or two, driven guys away with his investigations and interrogations, but he would do it again in a heartbeat. Chuck seemed to be different kind of guy, which made him even more suspicious.

But if Sam was bumping shoulders and laughing, she had to have it bad. That he knew. Still there was hope: as long as she did not playfully punch the guy on the upper arm, the next stage of her tomboy monkey love act, there was still a chance he had simply misread the situation.

Oh, how he wished he could get closer unnoticed so he could hear what they were talking about. Maybe he should employ Jeff and Lester, who prided themselves in being spies?

* * *

"Sarah... Walker," he repeated slowly a few times, as if to taste the words and get a feel for the name. "I like it. It seems to suit you," he finally concluded with a big grin.

Walker made sense, since she had one of those unpronounceable foreign last names. You would have to be Polish - or at least Slavic, Germanic or Romanic language capable - to not trip over the many consonants in a row in her last name. Walker was a simplified derivative.

Odd as it sounded, he understood her need for a new name. Was that not why he had created the Carmichael alias?

"It's nothing official yet, and I still need to talk to my mom about it, but with new beginnings, a new name," she said with a radiant smile.

He quickly looked away. Unaware of it, she had one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen. However she seemed to be unaware of a lot of things.

"I never really liked the name Sam. It's just so... dull or something, ugh," she continued. "Sarah's strong and feminine."

"And it doesn't hurt that combined with Connor, you have one of the most iconic sci-fi bad-ass female characters in history," he chuckled. "Along with Ellen Ripley."

She bumped shoulders with him again. It caused him to frown a little, pondering the meaning. Was it just playful or was there something behind the action? She had told him that she was not good with the saying her feelings part, though he thought she had done a splendid job explaining her anger. Maybe this was one way for her to connect?

"You'd take me for an Ellen?" She asked with a smirk, one eyebrow raised daringly.

"Wouldn't dare," he laughed. "One Ellie's enough, thank you very much."

* * *

Her eyes narrowed to slits as she observed the civilian watching the duo on the park bench. He could be a complication they would not need.

As she had left the apartment complex to return to her room, she had spotted him, clearly following her partner. She had shaken her head and had decided in the spur of the moment to shadow him. Just in case he was a problem that needed to be neutralized.

He had been introduced to her as Bryce Larkin, Sam's roommate and best friend. However that meant nothing to her. Friends were a certain weakness, especially to a spy, but Chuck was one of the few exceptions she was happy to make, and maybe Sam, if the woman continued to prove her worth.

She had understood Chuck's anger over the last part of the mission. Sam had unknowingly endangered not just him, but herself as well. Still she had to admit: the woman had guts. So she had smoothed things over between them, but they seemed unwilling to accept what was so blatantly clear. At least Chuck, but she knew that he was bound by rules and protocol. Something that would never keep her back if she were to be thrown into a situation like theirs, though it was highly unlikely she would ever find herself in such a situation. Her superiors did not dare to take the risk where it involved her.

She looked in Bryce's direction again and wondered if she should scare the living daylights out of him, but that would put Chuck and Sam in an awkward position. Even more than they clearly already were.

* * *

"Being the horrible fake boyfriend that I am, I nearly forgot but congratulations on your first mission," he said with a genuine, proud smile, which immediately warmed her. "You did really great tonight. Identifying and aiding in the apprehension of one of the world's most elusive killers. That's no easy feat."

It was quite the opposite of the scolding she had received from him after she had taken down La Ciudad with a well-placed hit with a tray. He had been pissed off, telling her about safety and assessing the situation when firearms were involved. As hard as she tried to deny it, he had had a point there: she had reacted on impulse, and had endangered the both of them. This time they, she had been lucky. Oddly enough, it had been Carina who had come to talk to her and had put some perspective to his anger.

Still it was nice to hear him so complimentary, especially after the days of hell she had put him through. The strange sensation in the pit of her stomach grew a little. She was no stranger to it, having felt it before, but not this strong. Not wanting to jinx whatever it was, she decided to leave it unidentified for now. Because it would make it easier to dismiss when all the rules and protocol the government had instated would come into play, or so she hoped.

"Stop it," she sighed, loving the compliments but needing to be realistic about it. "I'm not really a spy. The computer meant for you went into my head. All I did was flash on a couple of people and got a lucky hit in with La Ciudad. The rest was up to you, Casey and Carina."

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat: "Being a spy doesn't always mean gunfights and beat-downs. Sometimes it's gathering information and pointing out the bad guys. Which is exactly what you did."

"Okay, sure, but it doesn't change the fact that tonight I helped take down a major international arms dealer and yet tomorrow I still gotta clock in at the Buy More...What good is being a hero if nobody knows about it?"

"In our line of business, the best heroes are the ones who work in the dark. Who don't claim credit for staging a coup in some banana republic or for stopping the poisoning of the entire Senate. The ones who do this job to keep others safe and the world a better place."

"That's why you became a spy, right?"

He nodded slowly: "The wording may differ, but it's the same for Casey and Carina. They're in it to make a difference. Though with Carina you never know. I think she likes the game a little too much."

"Carina and you," she began, grasping for words to put her question into words.

He shook his head: "That was just an act. Watch and learn, remember?" He asked with a smile.

"What was I supposed to learn from watching her throwing herself at you?" She countered tensely with a question of her own. "How to act like a call-girl?"

He smiled: "I agree that she did put on quite the show, but in the meantime she checked for possible situational weaknesses that could either be to our advantage or disadvantage," he explained. "I'm sorry if she made you feel uncomfortable in any way."

She gave a quick shake of her head: "Not at all," she lied.

* * *

He leaned back in the shadows of the trees and grumbled a curse under his breath while he surveyed the scene. First there was Bryce, who was not as good as a spy as he obviously thought. Then there was Carina, who was a damn good spy in her own right but had made no attempts to be one this time, and then there was those two.

Whatever was going on, he did not have a good feeling about this. Anything that involved Carina had the tendency to blow up in your face, with tonight being the exception. To be honest, if he had been a superstitious man, he would have thought the end was nigh.

* * *

"You know," she began with hesitation. "Technically this was our fourth date, if you include Ellie's dinners. Six if you count the weird stuff, like the ride home from the hospital and playing hooky when I was about to crash from exhaustion."

She stopped for a moment to measure his reaction, hoping she could easily read him. He was looking at her with true interest and a faint smile that spoke of encouragement to finish pouring her thoughts into words.

"If we were really dating," she lowered her voice to nothing more than a whisper.

This saying your feelings thing really needed some working on, because it kept stalling her thoughts and words. In the past it had been easier to let others figure out where they stood, as it saved her from whatever ulterior motive the other one might have, but since he had been honest and open with her, she figured that he deserved the same.

_'Com'on, say it,'_ her mind unsubtly urged.

"I, uh, people might wonder," her throat started to go dry. "Why we haven't kissed yet... For the cover, I mean."

_'Lame!'_

His eyebrows came together in a curious frown: "Do you want me to kiss you? For the cover, I mean," he finally asked after another long, this time quite awkward silence.

* * *

Her question had caught him completely off-guard. She had a valid point though. However he worried about the ramifications. Still it showed that she was thinking like a spy a little, working on their cover. Nevertheless he was not big on displays of affection, especially when they were to be for show only.

Mistaking his silence for unwillingness, she followed up with another question: "Would it be so bad?"

"I'm sure I'd survive," he said, clearly teasing.

"Me too," she agreed, staring at her hands as she pressed the corresponding fingertips together.

Another silence rolled over them, even more awkward than the previous one, and he could tell that she thought it was her doing. As admirable as her attempts to voice her feelings and ideas were, it was clear to him it really was not her thing.

"Sa-rah," he drew her attention from her thoughts while he moved closer to her.

She smiled lightly; the effort to call her by her new name paid off. He was sure that he would not be the only person who would need time to forgo 'Sam' and get used to 'Sarah'. It was a huge change.

"Sarah," he repeated in a soft voice.

"Chuck, we should-"

"For practice purposes only," he cut her off. "Plus we've got a few spectators."

"Who?" She looked all around.

"Your roommate for starters. Clocked him a while ago. Carina, and I think I saw Casey," he said with a shake of his head and a smirk.

* * *

Her heartbeat picked up a little. She looked up and noticed that he had moved a lot closer to her. Immediately she looked down again and fidgeted by cleaning under her fingernails with her thumbnail.

Was he-? He was! Her heart jumped frantically in her chest. He was leaning in, his head tilted a little to the side, and instinctively she began to lean into, her head tilted in the opposite direction.

"Chuck," she whispered, feeling his warm breath brush up against her lips.

His mouth was no more than an inch away. _'Last chance to back out,'_ her reason told her. She closed her eyes. Her heartbeat was off the charts. A strong current jolted her when he pressed his lips, soft and smooth, to hers, and she nearly whimpered at the sensation. The very faint taste of apple juice. Sweet. Tentative. Enticing.

Reason and emotion struggled with each other, fought for supremacy over the other. As the kiss lingered she noticed a shift. A subtle change in them both. His hands came to rest on her cheeks as the nature of the kiss began to change too. Intensifying, burning. She put one hand on the back of his neck, using the other to grab a handful of his shirt, and answered him with just as much enthusiasm and intensity, as if they were standing in front of live bomb with only a few seconds left on the clock and not sitting on a park bench.


	15. Chapter 15: Versus the New Name

**A/N:** So after finishing Chapter 14 and getting an overwhelming response in reviews, it - oddly enough - took me a while to find the correct wording for this chapter, which is why it's right on time and not a few days early. There won't be much Charah this time, but a return to it is imminent ;-P.

A humongous thank you to the readers and the reviewers, and a warm welcome to all those who have newly favorited and/or followed this story.

Jon: No worries, I have no real intention to follow the 'will they, won't they?' – arc. There might be a little trouble in paradise on occasion, but it's not going to take as long as it did in the series. Ellie and Awesome spying on them? I did consider that, but feared that would be overkill, lol.

fezzywhigg & Jimmy_144 & pizza: Thanks, I wasn't sure if I did the kiss justice, but given your reviews, I guess I did ;-)

sevenrez: Thanks. Seeing as Sarah is pretty closed off, I feared that her saying her feelings part would be too early on, but in order to further the story and clear the air between them, I felt it was necessary, plus it lead to some Charah, which is always good :-).

Nerdtastic78: There'll be a return to Charah in 16, ;-). No spoilers, though this chapter might be considered a set-up for it.

RABCentralIL: Sam/Sarah's nowhere near super spy butt kicking mode, lol. Her victories over Casey so far can only be attributed to her rage, but I'll return to that in a later chapter. One of the things that bothered me in the series was extremely slow development of Chuck into a spy. You kinda learn of his intention to become one after he uploaded the 2.0, but before that, it felt like he didn't really do much to improve his 'survival' skills.

Shutupnkissme313: Carina will definitely have a bigger role than she had in the series, and with Sarah being on the road to becoming a spy, she'll be of influence in that development, ;-). Bryce/Bryan, yup, that was in the plans and will happen, lol.

Nomadic Nerd: Ha, Shaw will serve a purpose in a later chapter. Hated the whole Shaw-romance storyline in the series, so I will definitely not go there. Setting him on fire might be an idea, but seeing as he was such a cardboard cutout, it might not be more than a flash in a pan.

As always, reviews are most welcome and very much appreciated... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'Chuck'.

* * *

Lost in the memory of that one moment last night, she walked out into the courtyard. Maybe the practice kiss, as a front for their audience, had meant nothing to him, but to her it had meant a lot. Well, more than a lot, even if it had come with confusing, if not conflicting, feelings about whether it had really been for their cover's sake or not.

"Morning," Carina shattered her thoughts, almost causing her to jump a good foot in the air with a start.

She cursed inwardly; she should have checked the courtyard. Carina sat on the edge of the fountain, watching her curiously, so she was not that hard to miss. There was no Chuck or Casey waiting for her, which struck her as a little odd.

"Casey had something important to discuss with your boyfriend," Carina smirked.

"He's not my boyfriend," she was on edge immediately.

"Oh? Coulda fooled me," the redhead laughed amused. "From the looks of it, that kiss seemed quite real."

Her heart hammered in her chest and she felt heat rise to her cheeks. Chuck had spotted them, but she had never considered that it would lead to teasing and mockery.

"Can't really blame you. He is kinda cute-ish in a nerdy way," Carina needled her. "If you're in that kinda thing."

She rolled her eyes and glanced at Casey's front door, hoping they would come to her rescue soon. The DEA-agent was a handful and she was in no mood to let her good mood be ruined.

"So," Carina did not back down. "Was it real?" She asked with a meaningful eyebrow raise.

"No. Chuck spotted all of you, which is why we-"

"All of us?"

"You, Bryce, Casey."

The redhead burst into laughter, and she felt dumbstruck. What had she missed?

"Really, Sam," Carina hiccuped as she tried to suppress her laughter. "Two out of three know it shouldn't be more than a cover."

Again she rolled her eyes. It still had been practice, in public, which had been the point.

"Not Sam," she said with a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. "But Sarah."

Carina looked at her sharply, like a predator would its prey, all the merriment gone. It was unnerving to be scrutinized like that and she restrained her need to fidget. From what she had heard and picked up about the DEA-agent, one had to be careful around her because Carina was quite unpredictable. In other words, she was trouble.

She had to stay on guard, not giving the woman an inch in word and action. Unsure how long it would take for Chuck and Casey to discuss whatever was so urgent, she reluctantly sat down next to Carina.

"No matter what you think, Sam."

She raised an eyebrow sardonically. It would take a long time for people to get used to the name, she was sure of that, but the sooner people started calling her Sarah, the better. Even if she still had to talk to her mother about the name change.

"Fine, Sarah. I'm not the enemy. And if you really want into the spy game, I could teach you a useful thing or two."

Somehow that offer left her unsettled.

* * *

In the meantime, he looked at his nerdy partner and shook his head. It was a fine mess Chuck had made of things last night.

"You're an idiot, Bartowski," he sighed.

"I think you already said that, three times," Chuck countered.

"Are you sure the kiss meant nothing? Because it looked pretty damn real to me," he growled annoyed.

"For the fifth time, I clocked you, Carina and Bryce. If we want to sell the cover, there's going to be some pda involved, Casey. Are we going to have this discussion over and over again?"

"Do we have to?" He countered, not entirely buying into the cover excuse.

Chuck looked to the side, clearly thinking about his answer, and shook his head: "No. Message received."

"As long as we're clear on that," he grumbled.

The last thing he needed was added stress to their young partnership because Bartowski and Walker were too busy being lovey-dovey on public display. He liked the woman, like he would like a younger sister, and she had asked him for his help to grow stronger and defend herself, not relying on others to come to her rescue each time she would run into trouble. He found it admirable, and if Bartowski would do anything to jeopardize her potential, he would see to it that he would answer to him as well. The hard way. He cracked his knuckles.

"Anything else?" Chuck asked sounding somewhat worried.

He nodded slowly: "Any ideas on how we are going to keep Miller in check?"

His partner chuckled: "Appeal to her reason?"

"That's asking for the impossible," he guffawed.

* * *

He had not wanted to stir up more trouble, but it did bother him a lot. Instead of confronting her with his findings, like her sneaking out to kiss Chuck in the park, he had kept quiet. Unusually quiet for his standards, but he needed to think, needed to come up with a plan.

Involving Jeff and Lester as the amateur spies they claimed to be seemed more appealing each passing minute, but what if he was wrong? What if it was just his best friend acting all weird because she was, obviously, head over heels in love with the lanky nerd and had no idea how to act on that?

Still there were too many things that could not be explained with a simple case of lovestruck. Casey. How did the incredible hulk fit into all of this? Or Carina, who insisted on calling him Bryan, when she damn well knew that his name was Bryce. If it had been just Chuck, it would have made sense, but too many players were involved in this charade.

But what if he was wrong? That it was simply a weird coincidence. If he would sic the two crazies on his best friend, it would be a clear sign that he did not trust her or her judgment, and he could lose whatever remained of their already crumbling friendship. He heaved a deep sigh; it felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

* * *

She had left work a little early to beat traffic so she could change at home before driving to her mother's place. It had been quite a while since she had last gone to visit her, but she did not want to do this over the phone. She owed that much to her mother to do it in person.

She pulled over and checked the rear-view mirror, to see Chuck's car pull in the parking spot behind her. _'Of course,'_ she thought while she rolled her eyes.

After taking the keys from the ignition, she got out of the Nerd Herder, locked it and went over to his car. She tapped on the driver's side window and he rolled it down.

"If you wanted to come along," she began.

"Surveillance," he cut her off. "Someone has to keep an eye on you."

"Still it could saved either one of us some gas. I don't suppose you want to go in first and secure the place?" She offered with a deep sarcasm to her voice.

It was not that she was angry with him, but it did annoy her that she could not take one step without someone following her. Like she could not use the bathroom without a guard at the door. Going to see her mother was something very personal, and the government had just intruded. Again.

"I don't think that will be necessary," he answered while he reached into the backseat and pulled his laptop to him. "I know that this isn't ideal, Sa-rah, but it's the best we can do for now."

She took a deep breath and looked at her mother's house. As long as she had the Intersect in her head, she would have at least one shadow, if not two or three if Carina were to be permanently added to Team Walker. She shuddered at the thought.

The redhead DEA-agent had been nice to her as the day progressed, but she could not escape the thought Carina had a hidden agenda. Especially after the latter continued insisting on calling Bryce Bryan, just to get a rise out of him.

She turned away and was about to head towards her mother's house when he called her back: "Hey, Sarah."

"Yeah?"

"Good luck."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Sammie!"

She looked up and saw her six year old cousin Molly barreling towards her. Immediately a big smile broke out on her face. It was amazing that the little girl remembered her because it had been quite a while, and gosh, how she had grown.

"Molly," she smiled, kneeling and catching the girl in her arms.

Molly hugged her tightly, and she returned the favor. The girl backed out of the hug after a good minute and stared at Chuck.

"Who's he?"

"Molly," she warned her. "I'd like you to meet Chuck. He's," she searched for the right words because she did not want to lie to her cousin. "A friend. Chuck, this is my cousin Molly."

* * *

Her mother stood waiting for her on the front porch with a deep frown creasing her brow. It reminded her of the day she was brought home with a police cruiser after her dad had been arrested for fraud.

She swallowed nervously, and got dragged up the steps by Molly. How was it that her mother possessed the ability to make her feel like a child instead of the grown woman she was with a single look?

"Why don't you go inside, Molly?" Her mother suggested.

The little girl nodded and disappeared into the house.

"Mom," she said with a warm smile.

"You're not in trouble, are you?" Her mother asked pointedly.

She shook her head: "No. Why?"

Her mother took a deep breath and looked in the direction of Chuck's car: "Looks like an unmarked cop car. Surveillance."

_'Thanks, dad,'_ she thought bitterly. Of course her mother would assume the worst with all the cons and stunts her father had pulled over the years.

She shook her head in denial again: "That's Chuck."

Her mother gave her a stern look: "Who's Chuck?"

_'Thanks, Chuck,'_ she thought sadly. Now her mother would want to know all about him, and what his relationship with her was. The last thing she had wanted to do today was lie to her mother, and now she had to.

"He's," she began. "He's... my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend, huh?" Her mother inquired while she moved to the steps of the porch. "Then what's with the two cars?"

She had to think quickly, improvise her way out of this fine mess. Deflections for anything her mother might ask.

"He's on call for his second job," she offered the first explanation that came to mind. "If he gets called away, I don't have... to go with him."

She glanced at her mother's face. If her mother was buying the explanation, she was definitely not showing it. It seemed more the opposite in fact. The next question her mother posed was proof of that: "So why is he staying in the car?"

"Well, meeting the family's kind of a big step," she answered before adding in thoughts: _'If our relationship were remotely real.'_

Her mother cracked a smile, the tension completely gone from her face: "I guess you've got a point there, child. But, surely, he must be hungry. He can join us for dinner."

"No, it's not-"

"I insist. Either you invite him in or I will," her mother cut her off with a smirk.

_'Fine!'_ She kept herself from rolling her eyes at her mother's insistence and went to talk to Chuck.

* * *

He leaned back in the driver's seat with his laptop resting against the steering wheel, reading up on the latest preparations for Carina's mission. It looked easy, but with Carina in the lead, that was not saying much.

He shrugged a little when there was a tap on the window again and he turned his head to see Sarah – he got it right this time – leaning down. After putting the laptop in the passenger's seat, he rolled down the window again.

"Can I just talk to you for a second?" She asked sounding hesitant.

"Sure."

"I need to ask you a favor, and feel free to say 'no', preferably with a recognizable shake of your head, but, uh, could you," she paused and looked over at the house. "Would you, uh... Mom wants me to invite you in for dinner."

"You know," he grinned from ear-to-ear, curious as he was as to learn more about her. "That's a great idea."

"No, it's not," she immediately objected.

He schooled his face into a neutral expression to hide his hurt. Besides how bad could it be? She knew his sister. Would it be so bad to be introduced to her mother? He leaned over, closed the lid of his laptop and slid it under the seat.

"'No' is the answer."

She stepped back when he got out of the car, closed the door and locked it. He wondered why she was protesting this so much. Whatever she had told her mother, it had prompted a dinner invitation, and quite frankly, he was starving.

"You're supposed to say 'no', Chuck," she muttered upset.

"Just to get our stories straight... What did you tell her?"

"I might have mentioned that you're my boyfriend," she answered. "And that meeting my family would be a big step."

"If we were really dating," he nodded, a little more understanding to where she was coming from, but it was too late to turn back now.

If he would get back in the car now, it would raise a lot more questions with Sarah's mother than the both of them could probably answer without jeopardizing the asset's safety or national security.

As they walked to the house together, she told him a little about Molly's sad past. Of how her parents had been killed in a horrible car accident when she had just been a baby, and how her mother had taken guardianship over her aunt's little girl without a second thought.

* * *

"He seems a real gentleman, sweetheart. Polite, well-educated and well-mannered. Wherever did you find him?" Her mother asked with some disbelief as they washed up the dishes.

"At Westside Medical."

"What?" Her mother sounded shocked.

"Had a bad fall after my birthday. Ellie had me checked out. He gave me a ride home."

"What?" Her mother exclaimed even more shocked. "You got hurt and you didn't call me?"

"Oh, I forgot to mention that he's Ellie's little brother," she said with a victorious smile.

"Now that you mention it. They do look a bit like each other. So Ellie finally did it? Getting the two of you together."

"Hmm-mmm."

"So if that's the case, why are you so glum?"

"I just don't want to raise your expectations for a relationship that seems doomed."

"Why is it doomed?"

"Because he's not into me."

"Oh, trust me, sweetie. During dinner, I've seen the way that boy looks at you and he's into you."

"Really?"

Her mother nodded, accompanied with a grand smile: "And it's pretty obvious you're into him."

The fact that her mother could read her like an open book made her uncomfortable. Then again, her mother had always been good at reading her since she did not like to talk about how she was feeling. It was an acquired skill with her.

"I won't push, sweetie," her mother sighed when she did not engage. "But it's been a while since you last came and visited us, so forgive your old mom if I'm a bit curious."

She chuckled, happy that her mother would not force the issue. After clearing away the dishes, they sat down at the kitchen table with a mug of tea. Molly had insisted that her new friend Chuck would tuck her in and read her a bedtime story, so that left the two of them alone.

"So how have you been?" Her mother inquired curiously when the silence became too heavy to bear.

It was a valid question, one she did not have a clear answer to. Her mother, the support who never judged , always worried and was always full of advice, belonged to the group of people whom she could tell nothing now. Whom she had to lie to, to keep them safe.

"Busy," she answered after some contemplation.

Now it was her mother's turn to chuckle: "Good answer, now out with the truth."

It was hard to lie to the people closest to her, but it was even harder to lie to the woman who had brought her into this life and who had raised without much support of her father. Who had been apprehensive of letting her live with her father in her teen years but had agreed to it because he still was her father.

"Just busy. Life got a bit hectic, but things are settling down," she elaborated.

Her mother shook her head and gave her an amused look. It was really unsettling how much of a read her mother could get on her.

"You never were much for telling what is really going on, but again, I won't pry, Sam."

She picked up the mug and took a sip while staring out the kitchen window, into the night. Now was as good a time as any.

"About that, mom," she began.

"I know I asked you before but you're not in trouble, are you?" Her mother asked alarmed.

Quick shake of her head to deny, she took a deep breath and placed the mug back on the table.

"No," she said, though it felt like a lie.

She was in trouble, just not the average run-of-the-mill trouble with the authorities or the justice system. It was painful having to sit at her mother's kitchen table and downright lie to her mother, so she went back to her original plan.

"It's about my first name," she began anew.

Her mother laughed softly: "You want to change it."

She stared at her mother with her mouth agape. How on earth did she know? Emma looked at her with a highly amused expression on her face. It had caught her completely off-guard, and it must have showed because her mother continued: "Not the first time you mentioned it, but looking at you I have a feeling you will go through with it this time. There's definitely something different about you since the last time you visited... You seem more confident."

She looked down at her hands, desperately trying not to start fidgeting. If her mother already caught on about the name, what else had she noticed?

Her mother studied her from across the table and she began to feel uncomfortable even more. A long silence passed and it became harder and harder not to fidget. It felt like her mother could see right through her. It was quite unnerving to be honest.

"I won't stop you, but you will always be my little Sam to me," her mother added with a wry smile. "Not sure how your dad will feel about it. We haven't exactly been in touch the past few years," she added bitterly.

Knowing her father, he would have no objections, because in the few years that she had actually wanted to be part of his life and had lived with him, she had had quite a few aliases, with Jenny Burton being the most memorable in a bad way. It had been her senior year when her father had been arrested and she had been returned home in a police car, after her father's affidavit that she had been no part of his criminal endeavors.

She shook her head: "Doubt it'll be a problem with him. With his love for aliases."

Her mother laughed warmly: "You got that right, sweetie."

* * *

**A/N 2**: Apparently upon editing the last few lines got deleted, leaving the chapter at a rather abrupt end, but it should be fixed now.


	16. Chapter 16: Versus the Sleepover

**A/N:** After the last chapter I saw a bit of an opening for some Charah, but it needs some explaining before ya'll get out the pitchforks and torches and chase me from the village. I did contemplate a whole other direction with that particular story-line, but decided it would simply be too early... I know, I know, very cryptic but you'll see... In the series, it was pretty clear from the get-go that Sarah did a lot of pull-push with Chuck in their cover relationship. She's tempting him into acting like a boyfriend one moment, only to act the cold agent herself the next. Which confused the heck out of poor Chuck. Since this is a mirror story of the kind, it was to be expected for that 'aspect' to make its appearance, so this will be one of the very few times I'll give into my mean streak. Plus it serves as a set-up for a later chapter.

A huge, huge thank you to the readers and the reviewers, and a warm welcome to all those who have recently favorited and/or started to follow this story. You all are awesome!

charahkids: Thanks... And is this soon enough? ;-)

Toos: Thanks. I try to keep the story close to the original characters in the series, which makes twisting cannon a challenge. Beckman knows about Sarah's training (it was mentioned in chapter 11), so I would think Graham does as well, lol.

sevenrez: Thanks. Though Versus the Baby wasn't a bad episode, the placement on the time-line simply sucked in my opinion... To me it felt like 'hey wait, we need to address Sarah's mom, let's do it before we run out of time', making it pretty forced. But it took me a while to decide whether to keep Molly in or not, and how I were to do so.

uplink2: Thank you. And you've got a point with the family calling Sam Sarah, so I've referenced to it in this chapter, but weren't you the one who refused to call Sarah Sam? ;-P

Jimmy_144 & fezzywhigg: Thanks, :-)

Nomadic Nerd: Thank you. Awww, that's so not like Carina, ;-) Oh wait, that's exactly like Carina, lol. I had a paragraph containing a dinner conversation, but somehow it just didn't want to fit so I scrapped it for benefit of the chapter's flow.

So unless ya'll do bring out the pitchforks and torches, and I will have to hide like Frankenstein's monster, there should be a new chapter next week.

As always, reviews are most welcome and very much appreciated... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'Chuck'.

* * *

After Chuck had come downstairs again, the three of them had moved to the living room where her mother had taken to the recliner, leaving the couch to Chuck and her. It was a little awkward at first with her mother looking at them with great interest, but soon she decided _'Oh what the hell'_ and had curled up to the man.

"Guess you two haven't been dating for very long," her mother chuckled at the obvious conclusion.

"Just a couple of weeks now," she defended the lack of seamless and effortless.

Her mother studied them and smirked: "I could tell. There's still that cute awkwardness. It's nice to see the two of you taking the time to get to know each other. Everything's so rushed nowadays."

_'If only you knew the truth,'_ she thought sadly, keeping a smile plastered across her face. But her mother was buying her cover and the story that came along so far. She hated it; it just felt completely wrong.

She felt Chuck nod before he said in a kindly voice: "Sam's very special."

Barely able suppress the snort, she cleared her throat to cover it up. She wanted to protest the name, but since her mother had already claimed that she would always be her little Sam, she figured that it would be pointless so she kept quiet.

As the evening progressed, she found herself burrowing deeper into his side, not for the cover's sake, but because he was a quite comfortable and warm human pillow. She listened as her mother and Chuck talked about this and that. The odd thing was that it felt like Chuck was open and honest towards her mother, avoiding the dangerous topics that would force him to lie, sidestepping them if they came up. _'Why?'_

"Wait, you call Devon 'Captain Awesome'?" Her mother asked intrigued.

"You've met the guy, right?" Chuck countered with a big grin to which her mother nodded. "Then you know... Everything he does is awesome: climbing mountains, jumping out of planes, flossing."

Her mother laughed, and she found herself smiling as well. At least she did not have to sell some jackass as her boyfriend to her mother. Chuck was funny and engaging, and her mother as well as Molly seemed pretty taken with him. Not that it made things any easier.

* * *

He looked up from the computer when his cell phone chimed. Already past midnight, worry rose. It was standard for a field operative to be on-call twenty-four-seven, but anything after midnight never bode well. Had the CIA-nerd finally gone and done it?

He held a grudging but growing respect for his CIA-colleague, but that did not mean he had no reservations about the man's capabilities. In principle, Bartowski was not an expert in the field. His now unsealed, unredacted file had told him that much, but when he was out in the field, the results were remarkable, if not rather unorthodox.

Readying himself for an intervention of some kind, he picked up his cell phone and read the message.

"Huh," he grunted, causing his guest to cock an eyebrow. "Looks like Walker and Bartowski aren't coming home tonight. Some personal stuff."

"Oh, I bet," Carina agreed with an ominous smile and a conspiratorial wink.

He rolled his eyes. If Bartowski valued his career, and quite possibly his life, he would keep a safe distance to the asset and act accordingly. The last thing this operation needed was a cleanup, because the CIA-agent had allowed himself to be compromised. However it was something that he had begun to fear. It was a complication, when true, that they did not need, but he lacked any real evidence to be able to confront and set Bartowski straight thus far.

"It also means," Carina smirked. "It's gonna be just you and me tonight."

"Ugh," he groaned annoyed. "Not gonna happen."

"What if I promise it won't be anything like Prague?" She offered with a seductive purr.

He shook his head vehemently. It was an even more worrisome prospect than a repeat of what had happened in Prague after he had let his guard down.

"Just go to your hotel, Miller," he grumbled, returning his full attention to the files he had open on the computer screen.

* * *

He rolled over to his left side and bumped into something warm and soft that was not moving. His eyes snapped open and he stared directly into her eyes. Her right hand under her cheek, she was looking at him.

"Oh, sorry... Did I wake you?" He said in a whisper, hoarse from sleep.

She answered with a quick shake of her head and smiled faintly. He blinked a few times and went to roll onto his back when her left hand came to rest on his cheek to stop him.

"Sa-rah?" He mumbled confused as the gesture was impossible to misconstrue as pretend.

"Chuck," she smirked, brushing his hair behind his ear.

His heart beat picked up a little and his senses told him to bail, before things got out of hand, but he could not move, his gaze captured by those hypnotic blue eyes.

"What... What are you doing?" He managed to ask, a desperate measure in the hopes it would snap her out of whatever she was thinking she was doing.

She inched closer and closer. This was not supposed to go down like this. For the sake of their cover, they had agreed to share her old bedroom and her bed, since it would look odd if he were to ask for a cot, but this was dangerous territory now.

He should have made the drive home, suggest that she would leave the car and that they would pick it up tomorrow. It had sounded like a good idea when her mother had concluded that it was very late and then had offered that they could spend the night. Even though she was dressed in old, flannel pajamas, and he in his T-shirt and boxers, it forced the thought _'What the hell was I thinking?'_ to the front of his mind.

* * *

She had only been awake a short while, snapping out of a dark dream, and had lain on her side studying her pretend boyfriend, slightly dazed from the vivid nightmare. Unlike how she felt, he looked so relaxed in his sleep, and it had made her heart jump in all directions to see him like that. Awake, he always seemed so tense.

With her mother's words echoing in the back of her mind, she was acting a little more bold than she normally would have under these circumstances. But did she really want this to happen? Or was she simply testing the water to see how far he would let her go before he would stop her? If he even did stop her, that is.

Instantly doubt entered her mind. What if he did not back away? What if he did? What if her mother had been completely wrong with her assessment? So many what ifs. Could she live with the consequences either way?

The adrenaline rush and her courage seeped away quickly, but she had put the ball in his court now.

"Sarah, uh, we... I..., eh," he stammered confused. "This... can't happen."

The hesitation had not been lost on her, and it sparked the tiniest bit of hope again. Nevertheless if she did not get on equal footing with him, they would never have a chance. It was another reason why she had gone to Casey for training. If she could prove herself to be a real spy, his equal, Chuck could no longer hide behind protocol, rules, guidelines and whatever else he would come up with.

"I'm sorry," he continued, breaking the dwindling spell sooner than she had liked by rolling onto his back.

* * *

He frowned up at the ceiling, something he had been doing a lot as of late. It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to give in. By putting a little distance between them, he could hide the toll the effort had taken on him. His muscles trembled and his heart pounded insanely fast in his chest.

Oh god, he really wanted this, but he could not, would not, should not allow it to happen. She was his asset. If he had allowed it, the lines would have been blurred and the consequences quite severe. Especially if his superiors were to find out. He did not care about all the official rules, but she might have a price to pay none should ever have to pay, either it be her freedom or her life. As long as he did not get compromised, he could keep her out and safe.

Still, the kiss they had shared the night before had been positively electrifying, confirming once more that he felt more than the standard protectiveness towards the asset. That the cover, without set boundaries, could turn out to be his undoing.

Yet he would not mind more of it, but he had to draw the line; innocent things like holding hands, hugging, cuddling and kissing were okay, probably even encouraged by his superiors, but it could never be more.

He looked at her from the corners of his eyes and noticed she had not moved an inch. She seemed lost in thought, with a look of sadness and disappointment on her face. It sent a sharp stab through his heart, knowing he had been the cause of it. He hated to see her sad like this.

Taking a steeling breath, he turned his head towards her. It was extremely dangerous territory he was about to enter, but he wanted, needed to fix this without crossing the line.

"Com'ere," he suggested in a whisper, stretching out his left arm.

Sex was out of the question, but he could hold her in her sleep. It was the only thing he could offer this very moment, no matter how vehemently his heart and soul protested against this clinical approach. Or how hard his body yelled at him for not chancing it. He chose to ignore it all and suppressed a grunt of deep irritation in the process.

* * *

Had she already been confused, she was now confused even more. He had drawn the line in the sand, that much was clear. No fooling around. And now he was asking her come over and then what? What the hell was she supposed to do with those mixed signals? One moment he was acting like a real boyfriend, the next he was putting up the agent shield. It was exasperating.

She swallowed hard as she tried to make up her mind. He was allowing her to curl up to him, and though it was an exciting prospect, it also felt like a cop-out. Maybe she should try and be more like him? Use the regulations, a shield to protect herself?

A deep sigh passed her lips and she turned over to her other side. As long as he did not understand it was all or nothing for her, she would have to choose herself over him. No matter how strongly she felt towards her handler.

She pulled the covers up to her ears and closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to fall asleep, so the milling thoughts would stop and she would find some peace of mind. Finally her mind slowed down and she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Breakfast was silent and tense, with Molly being oblivious to it and chatting away. Which was something she considered to be a good thing. Anything to take her mind off the disaster last night had been.

Her mother looked in her direction curiously when she realized that she was scowling at Chuck, who was seated across the table from her, a little too late. Undoubtedly her mother would want to catch her alone and ask her about it. It was something she had to avoid from happening.

"Any plans for the weekend? The both of you are welcome to stay?" Her mother cut through the sudden silence when Molly invested her attention in eating her pancakes.

She looked at him and he answered with a quick shake of his head. Her thoughts exactly. There was no need for her to relive the events of last night. In fact she was dying to be rid of this particular shadow, and have some time to herself to put a few more things into perspective for herself, and the only place she could do that was her own bedroom.

Chuck's cell phone chimed and he took it out. She watched curiously as he frowned at the message.

"Sorry, Ms. W-" He began.

"Please, I told you to call me Emma," her mother cut him off.

"Sorry, Emma, but some thing's come up."

He looked at her sternly and she knew what the thing was. Their next mission. It sent a thrill of excitement down her spine. Still far from being a real spy, it could not hurt to get some field experience. Unless Carina would decide that she had to stay in the car or van or whatever other means of transport. Somehow she doubted that since Carina did not play by the book. Suddenly she wished Chuck would be more like Carina; more daring and less caring.

* * *

His front door opened and the two, who they had been waiting for rather impatiently, stormed into his apartment. He shook his head in anger and snorted.

"We're here," Bartowski felt the need to say with a warm smile.

He sent him a dark glare and a grunt in greeting before sparing Walker a faint but brotherly smile, only to pick on the sullen tension between. What the hell happened now? Another low grunt rose from his chest. He really did not like to be kept waiting and he really did not want to know what had occurred between the two of them this time. What had made it even worse was that he had been stuck with Carina and her antics.

Nevertheless they were finally here. At least now they could start planning the specific details of their Woolly Banker mission. He glanced at Carina who sat looking at the two with a thoughtful expression on her face, something that usually spelled trouble.

"So glad you could make it," he scoffed.

A wicked smile appeared on Carina's face before she got to her feet, sauntered over to Chuck and draped herself around him: "I missed you, Chuckie. Casey's just so... cold," she murmured loud enough to be heard by all present in the living room.

His groan of disgust mingled with a soft angry hiss, and he looked at Walker curiously. She sent him an innocent look with a tiny shrug of her shoulders. Like he would buy that. Not feeling the need to find out the specifics, he turned to the odd couple and stared at Carina.

"The mission?" He reminded her while he tried to keep his breakfast down as Carina played with a stray curl of Bartowski's hair.

"Right," Carina smiled and finally let go of the nerd before grabbing a pen and writing a few things on the transparent blackboard.

* * *

It was not that she had any real interest in the lanky CIA-nerd, but she loved seeing Sam squirm. The woman was in such deep denial, especially this late morning, that she simply could not resist having a little fun with them. Chuck was in no better condition, but at least he played along, well, a little. Always the good sport.

"Our mission is to acquire the Nadan-I-Noor diamond, so first we'll need to stake out the place. Find the potential weaknesses in Alahi's security systems and exploit them when we return to grab the diamond. Luckily for us, Alahi's having a party tomorrow afternoon, and I managed to get us invitations. Only three, so that will leave one of us with the car," she said, looking intently at Sam. _'Sarah,'_ she corrected herself in thoughts.

There was no way that Sarah would stay with the car. She already had the perfect candidate for that job, but she loved seeing the crestfallen look on Sarah's face appear. It brought an evil smile to her face.

"Casey, you'll be our driver," she continued.

"Fine," the gruff agent grumbled.

"You'd stick out like a sore thumb, with your overly aggressive demeanor," she explained.

"I can blend in perfectly fine. It's the company I keep," he sent her a meaningful glare without finishing his sentence.

"So that leaves the three of us to attend the party and find out what we can use. Alahi likes the ladies, so that will mean we'll have to put in a little effort to look presentable. Right, Walker?" She asked, earning an eye-roll from the woman. "With the both of us as arm candy, our boyfriend Chuck will assume the role as influential arms dealer Charles Charles."

A triple grunt ensued, she smirked, pleased that she had not lost her skill.

"Charles Charles?" Chuck asked. "Who in their right mind uses the same name for the first and last name."

"Maybe your parents were sadists?" She offered with a malicious smile.

"'Cause that makes it better," Sarah chimed in, obviously trying not to laugh.

She stifled a laugh as well; it was nice to see the newbie try and conquer her place on the team, as ragtag as it may seem at first glance, even if it had meant a cheap shot at her supposed boyfriend.

"We've increased the backchannel chatter on the elusive arms dealer Triple-C," she went on with the briefing.

"Hold on, Triple C?" Chuck interject.

"Charles 'Coldsnap' Charles. Three C's," she explained with a hint of annoyance. "Try and keep up, Chuckie... Anyway, we've put word out that he's in LA and looking to offload some of his more explosive merchandise. Alahi seems pretty eager to meet him and extended him an invitation, which confirms our theory as to why La Cuidad was here."

Casey guffawed: "And you want a nerdy-looking guy to pose as an arms dealer? Good one, Miller."

"It's not the first time we've used Triple-C. The last guy looked more like Chuck than the abominable snowman, but if we need one of those, we know where to look," she said with a sharp smile and angry look.

She did not mind input, if it aided their mission, but by questioning her decisions, it had made it clear she had picked the right man for the right job so far. Casey glared back at her.

* * *

The moment she had heard 'arm candy', she had become worried. Their team leader for this mission liked messing with all of them a little too much, or at least it appeared that way. Yet it had been surprising how serious Carina had been in her prep work.

Now that the briefing was over, she stood silently to the side, unsure what to do now, but Carina had asked her to wait, so she did.

"You didn't think I'd bench you?" The DEA-agent asked with a broad grin upon approaching her. "Stick you in a car? Wait for us? How will you learn if all you are is support?" Carina shook her head warily.

For some reason, being stuck in a car as support seemed very appealing;especially with the way Carina was sizing her up. _'This can't be good,'_ she thought worriedly.

"We've got a lot of work to do, Walker, but I think it can be done," the redhead grinned from ear to ear.

"This definitely can't be good," she mumbled under her breath.

"Oh, lighten up, Walker. It's gonna be fun!" Carina laughed, giving her playful jab on the shoulder.

In the meetings she had had with Carina so far, she had learned a few crucial things. And of those things was that Carina's kind of fun did not necessarily mean her kind of fun. Others were the woman's sharp tongue and the love for stirring up trouble.

"I don't know," she sighed a little overwhelmed by her partner enthusiasm.

The redhead laughed warmly: "Have a little faith, Walker. First things first... Show me your closet."

"Eh, what?" She nearly choked in alarm at the directness.

"Gotta see what I have to work with," Carina replied, shrugging her shoulders as if it was that obvious.


End file.
